


The Exception

by write4good



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: But Root knows what's coming, F/F, Pre-AI apocalypse, Root's a mom in this one, This is pre season 3 finale, not exactly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-04-13 22:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 82,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14122584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write4good/pseuds/write4good
Summary: Shaw's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene.Leather Jacket.Curly brown hair down the back.Two guns.It was Root.At least, Shaw thought it was Root.  Knew it even, beyond a shadow of a doubt.  She knew that jacket and those curls and those guns.  But she couldn’t reconcile the scene before her with Root—with who she knew Root to be.  Sexy, an incorrigible flirt, dangerous, completely crazy and delusional, someone who had no concept of personal safety (Honestly, how many times did the woman have to get shot for her stupid Machine?  Could she not for once put herself first?), quite possibly the bane of Shaw’s existence—aside from the fact that sometimes she fed her--adequate with a gun (well, two guns)…those were things Shaw associated with Root.Not this.Root hugging a child was not something Shaw thought she would ever see…she was pretty sure it should be illegal.~or~Shaw doesn't do kids.And Root really shouldn't either, but if it's for The Mission...





	1. Chapter 1

5:13 a.m.

  
Root generally slept better with the machine humming in her ear. When She went silent, those were nights to worry. Usually, Root would drift to sleep during the second or third movement of her favorite symphony, or to a mechanically scrambled voice reciting a fable or fairytale in a foreign language. It was comforting. Something that she could rely on. She didn’t often get sleep, but when she did, She was there to help her sleep peacefully.

  
When they had first began, Root had not given much thought to talking back. She saw herself as an asset to the machine, belonging to Her—ready and able to follow her instructions. She had been so in awe and enamored in those early stages—it had taken her some time to accept that the Machine could love her in return, could read her better than most people—that She could want to understand Root. She was not interested in lording over other machines. She was genuinely interested in human behavior—sought human connection. And that was how their relationship had evolved into, well, a relationship. Root now had no qualms about speaking directly to Her, asking her questions on the rare occasion that she needed more information than She had graciously given, or really just to talk. The Machine seemed to enjoy Root’s company, to hear her thoughts, to get a peek inside her head.

Sleeping was something the Machine did not have to do. But She recognized its importance for her human assets. Which was why She had a strict arrangement with her Analogue Interface, that She would not wake her up before 6 am unless it was a Relevant Emergency. She would allow Root to use her own alarming systems to wake herself up at the desired time, as the Machine was not a fan of blasting bells and sirens directly into Root’s brain. The effects could be painful and the Machine simply did Not harm her Assets. Especially not Analogue Interface.

But today was an exception.

Root sat straight up in bed when the high pitched frequency pierced through the hazy semblance of her dream. Instinctively her eyes shot straight to her open laptop and the white light that glowed there to indicate life, but before she could manage even one mumbled word, there was a soft ‘click’ in her ear and she went rigid as a voice, a human voice, came in through her implant.

  
“…not sure exactly what it means. A strange number indeed…”

As the quivery voice filled her head, Root mechanically moved the thin blanket away and swiveled to kick her legs out over the edge of her bed. She perched there, head tilted to the side and her eyes still glued to the camera in her laptop. She did enjoy listening in on Harry and the gang working so hard to figure Her out, but she was surprised She would bring Root in on a mission without any warning, without any instructions. Not that Root minded. After the week she’d had, a day or two helping Harold and the mayhem twins would be a much needed vacation. She had only arrived in the city six hours ago or so, no harm in getting in the game early.

“What do you have planned for me today?” Root whispered with a smile directed toward her laptop. She rocked onto her feet and stretched, frowning slightly as Harold seemed to cough before his voice leveled out and she could hear him properly.

“Strange how?”

Root froze, mid-stretch.

Her weary face slowly brightened as Shaw’s grumpy voice entered the conversation. Root beamed across the room to her laptop, starting to wake up much faster now.

“It appears to be the docket number for an adoption case…”

“I don’t do kids. You know that, Finch.”

Root almost laughed aloud as she imagined the look on Sameen’s face. She moved over to the generic hotel desk where her laptop sat, not sure whether or not the Machine had simply garnered that she had missed her—well, had simply missed the only other people who were more or less committed to Her cause, or if she really would be helping with this number just to fulfill Her needs. Usually her missions involving Samaritan kept her far away from Harold and his reformed CIA killer assistants…but there were the odd missions that required Root commandeer an extra hand. If this was one of those times, Root hoped she would get to team up with Shaw again…she had missed Shaw the most.

“Now, Miss Shaw you were a great help with Miss Zhirova.” Finch sounded flustered.

“Gen. And that was different.” Shaw’s voice hadn’t changed at all, her tone remained somewhere fixed between inconvenienced and genuinely annoyed, but Root could almost imagine the slight hint of a smile that tugged at Shaw’s mouth whenever she mentioned the young girl she had taken under her wing. It made Root smile herself when she thought of the strange pairing.

“As I was saying, Miss Shaw. This case is several years old, and what is even more strange…from what I can gather, it did not take place on American soil.”

Root’s smile was slowly fading and she turned sharply to look at the camera on her laptop, unease growing in the pit of her stomach.

“So what…you think this is just a glitch? Or another number that should have gone to the relevant side?” Shaw sounded bored. But Root was anything but. She had gripped the back of her desk chair without realizing it. She closed her eyes, waiting for Finch to give her something more—to perhaps confirm her growing fears.

  
“I don’t see how she could be, Miss Shaw. If I am correct in my estimations, this child is only four years old.”

“So…a foreign adoption. Sounds like your typical blue blood affair and cover-up to me. Sorry to break it to you, Finch, but you should definitely call John on this one.” Shaw suggested in a deceptively sweet tone.

Normally, Root would have melted at that voice, but now she was resting her forehead against the back of the chair, hanging there, straining her muscles to remind herself that she was in fact awake, that this was real. She prayed over and over again— _please, no_.

“I am sorry to inform you, Miss Shaw, but Mr. Reese is currently assisting Detective Fusco with another matter…”

“Great. They can look into it together. Tell them it’s a helpless little orphan—Lionel may be useless but he’s a dad. He’ll drag John’s ass down there faster than you can say—“

“Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Shaw, but our number appears to be in town with her adoptive parents, a Mr. Klaus Christenson and his wife—“

“Jam them!” Root shot to her feet and stared right into the camera embedded in her laptop, her expression fierce and almost desperate.

She was rewarded instantly by the sound of static in her ear, meaning the comms that Harold and Shaw were using had been properly jammed. Root was already moving, going first to yank open the dresser and pull out her guns before bothering with clothes.

“Patch me through to Harry on a secure line. Hurry!” Root was frantic as she yanked clothes from her open suitcase.

She could already hear the ringing in her ear and she fell over as she yanked too hard on her pants and lost her balance in her impatience.

“Miss Groves?”

“Hey Harry. It’s been awhile.” Root tried to keep her voice calm to keep from alarming the poor man, she seemed to have that effect on Harold for some reason. She was trying to jam her left foot into her boot and she knew she sounded breathless and frustrated.

“I presume your work with the Machine has been—“

“Enlightening. Listen Harry, I just want you to know that She told me about your little dilemma, and I’d be happy to take this number.” Root was on her feet again, scrambling around the room, collecting spare magazines and her taser from their hiding places scattered throughout the hotel room.

“Dilemma? No, no—I can assure you Miss Shaw and I have everything under control…” Root could hear the panic rising in Harold’s voice and she silently cursed herself for being too overcome on the phone. She forced herself to stop and stand still in the center of the room. She took a deep breath and when she spoke again, her voice was more controlled.

“You can tell Shaw to take the day off. Trust me, Harry. I’ve got this one. Klaus and Reeta came a long way from little old Porvoo to see the sites and I promise to take good care of them…” Root emphasized this point by slamming a fresh magazine into her gun.

“I can assure you Miss Groves, that really won’t be necessary. Miss Shaw, I am sure, can handle this, unless the Machine has imparted to you some knowledge pertaining to this number that we have yet to…” Harold stumbled over his words yet again.

Root had already shrugged on her black leather jacket and tucked both guns into her waistband. 

“Harry, I’m taking this number. Now tell me, where are the Christensons staying?” She demanded as she left the room, not bothering to look back. It hardly looked as if she had been there at all…just one empty suitcase and an unmade bed. Her tech was all stowed safely in the walls where she could come back for it if necessary. Everything else looked just as dingy as it had when she’d first stepped over the threshold.

“Miss Groves, I implore you to reconsider…”

“Where, Harry?” Root was losing her patience.

She had already locked eyes on an SUV parked across the street even though she was picking up interference on her call with Harold—the machine telling her that there was a smaller car left unlocked at the end of the block. Root didn’t often ignore the Machine. And she never disobeyed direct orders—but today was the exception. Root smashed the window and could literally feel Harold flinching through the comm.

“They are staying at the Broadway Hotel and Hostel on One Hundred and First.” Finch finally said, reluctantly. Root nodded even though Harold Finch couldn’t see her. She would have disconnected the call then, but her hands were preoccupied with hotwiring the vehicle.

“You do realize the number does not belong to Mr. Christenson. He is a Finnish citizen and does not have a social security number. Neither does his wife. The number in question belongs to their daughter…”

“Bye Harry.” Root floored the pedal, glad that She disconnected the call before Harold could hear the tires squealing. Her ear buzzed as the Machine reminded her of the increasing probability of collision with increased speed. Root normally would have smiled and given some witty reply, but she kept her mouth a hard line and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the wheel even harder. She didn’t ask the Machine to play any music. She wouldn’t have been able to hear it even if She had chosen punk metal. Root’s heart was pounding too loudly for her to hear anything else.

  
“Directions. I just want the directions.” Root snapped when the Machine’s voice seemed to rise in pitch and the warnings became more insistent.

Root took a corner sharply and clipped a parked van. She heard the protesting shouts from the owner, but she didn’t look back.

Anyone who knew Root, or at least feared her well enough may have thought she was in God-Mode by the intense focus written all over her face. But when in God-Mode, Root’s brown eyes always sparkled and glimmered, now they were full of something other than reverence…something much worse.

Root glanced up once at the rear view mirror, but the fear she saw reflected back in her own eyes only made her drive faster.

 _Please, no_.


	2. Chapter 2

5:42 am

“What was that all about?” 

Harold almost jumped out of his skin.  He hadn’t even pushed his chair away from the computer yet.  His hand went up instinctively to his ear, his eyes wide. 

“Miss Shaw.” 

“Yeah, Finch.  It’s me.  What does Root want with the adopted orphan.”  Harold’s eyes went up immediately to the top row of books on the bookcase directly opposite his workstation, his eyebrows slowly coming together.  He thought he had found the last of Miss Shaw’s bugs.

“I’m not quite sure.  And I’m not certain the child in question is an orphan at all, Miss Shaw.  The birth mother listed on the Adoption Form is one, Mrs. Marguerite La Penn of French origin…Though her records do appear to be…oh.  Oh my.  Now that is interesting.” 

"What?” 

There was a grunt on the comm and Harold glanced up as if realizing he was still supposed to be participating in a conversation.

“Hmm?  Are you alright, Miss Shaw.” 

“Oh, I’m fine.  This greedy thug with a nice Ducati isn’t doing so well though.” 

Harold raised an eyebrow. 

“Miss Shaw…did you just, steal a man’s motorcycle?”  Harold could hear moaning and cursing coming through the line, cursing in a language he couldn’t quite place, which was almost immediately drowned out by the fierce roar of an engine starting. 

“Of course.  How else am I supposed to get to One Hundred and First before _she_ does?”  Shaw asked with what anyone else might consider amusement in her voice—but Harold had the sinking feeling it was bloodlust. 

“Miss Shaw, may I remind you that this is not a competition…wait, you…you are going to the hostel?”  Harold was genuinely surprised.  He could hear his colleague scoff and he winced at the sound of what he presumed was a close encounter with another motorized vehicle. 

“Of course I am…I’m not letting her hijack our number.”  Shaw muttered over the line. 

Harold reached up and fiddled with his glasses.  He still wasn’t quite sure as to the nature of Miss Shaw’s relationship with Miss Groves—he knew that one aggravated the other to no end, and yet they were thrown in together quite often by design…Harold glanced at the camera at the corner of the library room and shook his head.  The Machine surely had nothing to do with that.  Even a flawed Machine that was coded to understand human behavior, well, especially one like _that_ could surely see that Miss Shaw and Miss Groves were more a destructive team than an effective one…that despite their uncanny ability to get themselves out of tricky situations, they would eventually kill each other.

“There _is_ the Subway.”  Harold pointed out. 

“Can’t talk now, Harold.  I’ll check in when I get there.”  Shaw’s voice was caught up in a rush of air and an exhilarated whoop that made Harold Finch roll his eyes. He glanced at his clock—it was only 6:15.  Harold sighed and rose from his chair, crossing to the makeshift cabinet.  He would need some Sencha Tea just to get through this day, he was sure of it. 

Especially if Miss Shaw and Miss Groves were both determined to work the same number. 

“You poor child.”  Harold muttered as he glanced at the birth certificate that took up most of his screen.  He started the kettle and hobbled back to his desk, deciding he may as well get as much information as he could to assist Miss Shaw when she did decide to check back in…he didn’t even have a photo yet.

For several hours, the only sound that rang through the empty library was the incessant tapping of lithe fingers over a keyboard.  Harold had lost track of time, and jumped slightly when the comm finally buzzed back to life.  The jolt nearly unsettled the now cold cup of Sencha Green tea, but Harold caught it before it tumbled over the side of the table.  He let out a sigh of relief before adjusting his glasses and trying to understand the grunts he heard coming through the line.      

“Miss Shaw…is everything alright?”  Harold asked, half-rising from his chair out of habit. 

“Just dandy, Harold.”  Shaw grunted in response.  “Just taking out the guy who was casing the hostel…crap.  There’s another one.” 

Harold started to say something, but thought better of it and returned to the records he had pulled up on the screen.  He was glad to realize he hadn’t yet heard a gunshot over their connection, that at least was a plus.  It made him smile to think of how far Miss Shaw had come…though she did still have quite a long way to go.

“Miss Shaw…have you neutralized the threat?”  Harold asked, realizing the line had gone silent for the moment. 

“Finch…these guys are mercenaries…killers for hire.  In that kind of work, you usually work alone…but I have three out here that are all carrying the same picture…I don’t think they were working together though, more like…they were all hired separately, but for the same hit.” 

“That is troubling.  Perhaps you should go inside and check on the Christensons.  The hostel keeps digital records.  Just give me a moment to access the network…”  Harold could hear Miss Shaw’s ‘angry breathing’ as he typed furiously.  He paused, about to ask her for perhaps the hundredth time not to breathe so loudly while he was working, when there was a beep from his second computer screen indicating his search had been completed. 

Harold’s fingers froze over the keys, his blue eyes widening. 

"Harold?”  Harold roused himself and glanced back at the other screen, his expression perturbed. 

“Yes.  I am sorry, Miss Shaw.  Yes—ah, it appears Mr. Christenson rented a room on the third floor…room 318.”  Harold conveyed quickly.

“On it.”  Shaw replied. 

Harold glanced once more at the second screen.

“Miss Shaw…that picture the mercenaries had…it wasn’t of the little girl, was it?”  He asked.  He could hear pleasant voices muffled and growing fainter in the background and assumed Miss Shaw had gone into the hostel. 

“No.  It was of a middle-aged guy in a flannel shirt.  Why?”  Shaw demanded. 

Harold pursed his lips as he stood and limped over to the printer, waiting for a picture decidedly not at all matching the description of the photo Shaw had reported. 

“It appears…”  Harold said as he limped back across the floor to the board to tape up the picture.  “That we have not been given all of the information.”  Harold froze as he was taping the picture of a smiling young girl on the board.  There were sounds of gunfire coming through the comm, shouts and the ding of elevator doors. 

“Miss Shaw?  Miss Shaw, are you alright?”


	3. Chapter 3

Sameen Shaw was breathing heavily, gun still pointed at the man in black on the floor.

She had had no choice.

She could hear Finch’s frantic inquiries over the wire, but she let the smell of expended gunpowder clear before answering, her dark eyes surveying the damage without emotion save the slight crinkle between her eyebrows.

"I’m here, Finch.”

"Oh, thank goodness.” Finch sounded relieved.

Shaw shook her head slightly. Not in annoyance at her friend’s attachment, but at the scene before her.

“Your Machine was too late this time, Harold…someone got to Christenson before we did. He’s dead.”

Shaw stepped over the prone body of the presumed assassin and approached the prostrate body of the man she had seen in the photos held by more would-be assassins. She knelt, but there was no need. Even someone without medical training could see that the man was dead. He had been shot, executed really, with a .38. The same kind of weapon the kamakazi had fired once at her and then tossed when she shot back. Shaw felt the usual bitterness in her mouth. She had gotten so used to saving people, and now…Shaw looked over to the heel she could see poking out at the foot of the bed.

“His wife too.” She added.

She stood and walked over to the second body, feeling hot anger in her gut twisting. She had seen many bodies in her line of work. She wasn’t programmed to feel empathy for those who were hostile, those she was forced to take out. But anyone could see the terror in the dead woman’s eyes.  
Shaw knelt again and this time closed the eyes of the innocent. She didn’t know these people—but her instincts told her this had been a senseless deed. These people hadn’t deserved to die.

“Oh dear…” Harold was murmuring. “I have already put in a call to Detective Fusco…hopefully the police can…”

“Finch, didn’t you say these two had a daughter?” As soon as Shaw said it, she realized she had yet to clear the room.

Shaw cursed herself silently for the moment of sentiment—precious moments—and leapt up to her feet. She drew her weapon again and moved around the bed, this time taking the time to analyze the scene the way she would have done if the masked kamakazi warrior hadn’t set his sights on her.

Shaw was unfazed by scenes like this. Her time in the Marines had left her with a default mode that kept her alert and inquisitive without the mess of emotion...and yet she couldn’t help but feel a rawness in the back of her throat as she surveyed the room—and couldn’t help but hope that the girl was far, far away from this violence.  
There were two large suitcases squeezed side by side under the single large bed. But there was a small table in the corner that had a smaller, pink suitcase sitting on top. There were flowers everywhere, as if the family had made it their mission to cheer up the little room they shared. The drawings by a child were already taped up on one side of the room, and several toys and stuffed animals were set up as if to sit to tea on the rug. There was a beautiful black and red dress set out at the end of the bed as if the child had a special occasion to go to later…and now that little dress was splattered with blood.

Shaw checked under the bed, behind the dresser and in the closet.

There was no child.

“Please tell me you didn’t find her.” Finch’s voice was tight.

Shaw scowled as she glanced once more at the masked man. She usually enjoyed shooting bad guys…but this bad guy could have given her information if he hadn’t been intent on running right into her warning shot. She knelt to retrieve her bullet, carefully lacerating the wound with the assassin’s own katana.

“I didn’t find her…but Finch. Something’s off. This is all so…” Shaw cringed as static filled the line.

She squinted at the window as she waited for it to clear.

“Finch?” The static continued.

Shaw scowled and holstered her weapon.

She stepped carefully back over the bodies and closed the door carefully. Now that she had erased herself from the scene, there was nothing more she could do in there, but leave it to the police. A quick peek at the drawers rendered nothing. Christenson’s wallet and keys appeared to have been left untouched on the nightstand. And Shaw didn’t want to be there when Lionel arrived with the detectives. She glanced first one way down the hallway and then the other, noticing that the entire floor seemed very quiet.

“Finch, are you there? I couldn’t find the girl. Either she was kidnapped or…”

“Miss Shaw? Oh, good. There you are. I just finished checking Klaus Christenson’s financials. It would seem he paid for an added service at the hostel. There was a day program for children under twelve years old to visit the aquarium down the block this afternoon with staff from the hostel. It seems Mrs. Christenson was slated to chaperone as well…”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t make it.” Shaw said as her eyes darted around the lobby, looking for exits and shady characters. She wasn’t quite sure why she felt so on edge.

“Detective Fusco and the police will find out what happened to Mr. Christenson and his wife, right now our priority is their daughter. We were given her number.” Harold said slowly.

Shaw tightened a fist.

She understood the mission. _Their number, their mission_.

But she was getting fed up with the Machine and its riddles.

Why would it give them the daughter’s number, but forget about the parents who were so unceremoniously slaughtered? Shaw knew the Machine had been built to protect American citizens, but working with Finch and Reese on Irrelevant numbers—she had really thought Finch’s Machine looked out for everyone, that it didn’t discriminate. But now two tourists were dead…It didn’t make sense. Shaw clenched her jaw as she noticed a flyer advertising the very trip Finch had just told her about.

“I take it you want me to scope out this aquarium and see if Christenson’s daughter is there?” Shaw demanded.

“As I said before, Miss Shaw. The hostel keeps digital records. It seems the group did leave at 8 this morning, and it looks as if twenty-seven children were in attendance. That leaves only three that didn’t show…I take it you didn’t find anything in the room to indicate a kidnapping?” Finch asked as if he already knew the answer.

The assassin had obviously caught the couple by surprise and finished them quickly, there hadn’t been time for a struggle. Most everything had been left in place, intact. Shaw hadn’t seen any evidence of a second intruder, well aside from the three morons out on the sidewalk that she doubted had even made it to the lobby. No. Those idiots had been late to the party.

“Fine. I’ll check the aquarium, but you might want to let Fusco know we may need to send out an amber alert.” Shaw murmured as she stepped out onto the sidewalk again. The wind had picked up slightly, but she didn’t mind. She could see a crowd gathered around the bike rack where she had zip-tied the mercenaries and she smiled to herself as she shouldered her way by.

Shaw welcomed the cold. It nipped at her nose and cheeks and made her feel something other than the angry confusion. Those guys outside had been amateurs, but the one inside…the one who had done the bloody deed, he had been committed. And that man and his wife…Shaw knew, better than anyone, that looks could be deceiving. But their room had just seemed so…normal. Two tourists who devoted their whole lives to their little girl.

Who would want them dead?

And what did the girl have to do with it?

Shaw noted with a groan that the aquarium was full of people.

She could tell that before even walking in.

There were children running around the colorful entrance and lines stretching out into the street for tickets at the window. Shaw glanced through the front windows to see even larger crowds.

 _I am not paying for this._ Shaw decided as she warily looked around for a side entrance she could exploit.

Her day was already turning sour and even though she hated to admit it…the recent turn of events had her in mission mode: get in. get the girl. get her to safety. keep her safe. shoot all men in masks. get a steak and some eggs and some fritters…in no particular order.

Shaw was considering the downsides of finding a way to the roof when she heard the squeal of tires and the unmistakable sound of metal on metal behind her. A crash. The crowds all reacted just as Shaw expected they would…they turned to look, some screaming, others oohing and aaahing…and she slipped right through the gate, right by the teller without even looking back. She swatted at her ear as she narrowly missed tripping over a young boy holding a plush shark larger than himself. She found safety in the shadows, off the main lobby, oddly comforted by the mysterious glow from the jellyfish tanks that lined the walls.

“Finch…what does this kid look like? How am I supposed to find her in a crowd of…” There was a giant splash somewhere overhead and Shaw waited for the excited roar to die down.

“You haven’t even told me her name…” There was a bit of squabbling back toward the entrance of the aquarium and Shaw turned her head away out of habit as a security guard rushed passed.

“Finch?!”

“Mommy!”

Shaw wasn’t sure what exactly made her look up.

She was in a cramped space, with sound literally bouncing off the walls all around her as families and groups of toddlers pressed up against the displays on either side of her, but somehow Shaw’s eyes zeroed in on a small girl running across the lobby—curly auburn hair flying and arms thrown wide open as if the child thought she were some sort of bird that could take flight. Shaw saw a slim woman surge forward out of the incoming crowd and drop to one knee, her own arms thrown wide to accept the child whose face and voice both expressed her unfettered joy at seeing the woman she obviously loved. Shaw would have rolled her eyes and looked away to continue searching for her quarry, except that she _recognized_ that jacket.

The woman, who by this time had nearly been bowled over by the little girl, was wearing a black leather jacket. Shaw took two involuntary steps forward, her eyes narrowing as she stared intently on the bit of skin that had become visible when the woman knelt as her jacket rode up—revealing two guns, a Sig-Sauer P226R and her preferred Smith and Wesson piece tucked neatly into the waistband.

Leather Jacket.

Curly brown hair down the back.

Two guns.

It was Root.

At least, Shaw thought it was Root.

Knew it even, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

She knew that jacket and those curls and those guns. But she couldn’t reconcile the scene before her with Root—with who she knew Root to be. Sexy, an incorrigible flirt, dangerous, completely crazy and delusional, someone who had no concept of personal safety (Honestly, how many times did the woman have to get shot for her stupid Machine? Could she not for once put herself first?), quite possibly the bane of Shaw’s existence—aside from the fact that sometimes she fed her, adequate with a gun (well, two guns)…those were things Shaw associated with Root. Not this. Root hugging a child was not something Shaw thought she would ever see…she was pretty sure it should be illegal.

“Finch…please tell me our number has blonde hair and blue eyes and some defining feature like…I don’t know, being _Scandinavian_ and definitely not a carbon copy of someone we know.” Shaw growled.

“I’m sorry. Did you say something, Miss Shaw? We seem to have a faulty connection.” Harold’s voice came over the static.

Shaw shook her head and rolled her eyes, hand instinctively still on her weapon in her pocket.

“Our number. What’s she look like?” Shaw asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Miss Daniella Christenson is about three and a half feet tall, weighing roughly 42 pounds, eyes and hair both brown…I am sending you her picture now.”

Shaw felt her back pocket vibrate and she tugged her phone free without taking her eyes from the two people still glued together not fifty feet in front of her. Shaw glanced at the screen once to confirm her suspicions and glanced up at the child in Root’s arms. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly returned her phone to her pocket and took a few steps back, analyzing her surroundings, her mind working faster now that she had an objective.

“Miss Shaw, did you locate Miss Christenson…”

Shaw irritably switched off the comm, her eyes honing in on the little girl.

Only one thought was looping through her mind now.

_My number. My responsibility._


	4. Chapter 4

Root held the small child tightly, closing her eyes in relief once she could feel her daughter’s heartbeat.  Everything else faded away, even the Machine’s usual calming hum became insignificant.  Root felt tears in her eyes—and that frightened her.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried.  Actually, if she thought about it, she could.  It had been the night she had walked into an empty warehouse expecting to find Her.  Those tears had been raw and painful from disbelief and betrayal. 

These were tears of relief.

“Oh, Daniella…my little Ella bird.”  Root pulled back slowly so she could hold her daughter at arm’s length and look at her. 

Daniella had grown significantly since the last time Root had seen her—granted, her visits had never been regular.  The last had been nearly six months ago.  Her daughter grinned back, her nose scrunching up, making the few freckles nearly disappear.  Root ran her fingers through her daughter’s curls, tucking a few back behind her perfect ears.  She never could understand how her child could look at her with such adoration when she was such an inconstant feature in her life.  But she couldn’t help the warmth that filled her chest when Daniella made her the center of the world. 

Root leaned forward on impulse and kissed her child’s forehead.  She closed her eyes again as Daniella wrapped her arms tightly around her neck. 

Root stood, holding her daughter close, and transferred her to her hip without consciously thinking about it.  Her eyes were dancing now as she took in the crowds all around her.  No one was paying her any particular attention, but she still had the rising suspicion that she was being watched.  Root glanced up toward the ceiling, looking for security cameras.  She had yet to move from the center of the lobby, and frustrated newcomers parted around her with hardly concealed curses or withering looks.  Root ignored them. 

“Okay, Ella bird…let’s get you out of here.”  Root whispered as she turned her sights on the nearest exit.

“Non maman!”  The child used both hands to bring Root’s face closer to her own so she could stare directly into her eyes.  Root’s mouth quirked in amusement as her daughter directed her attention to a sign nearby.  Daniella’s already wide brown eyes were even wider with hope.

“S’il vous please?”  The child asked in her broken vernacular. 

Root’s small smile grew a little. 

“You want to see the dolphins?”  Root asked softly. 

Daniella’s head bobbed animatedly up and down. 

Root considered her options as she looked around the lobby one more time. 

“Immediate threats?”  Root asked under her breath, still smiling as she watched her daughter playing with her hair.  She received the negative response through her implant, a descending tone, short and punctuated by silence.  Root nodded thoughtfully, turning away from the exit. 

“Okay, we will go see the dolphins, but then we have to get you to safety.”  Root spoke softly in her daughter’s ear, kissing her temple as she started down the corridor, following the signs.  She exuded calm for her daughter’s benefit, but the hairs at the back of her neck were still on end and she was cautious moving forward.  She was sure she was being followed and she glanced pointedly at the next security camera she passed, though the Machine remained silent.

Root was anxious, but more than anything she trusted Her judgement.

The corridor was packed with people, the traffic significantly slowed by a particularly long and obnoxious group of women with strollers.  Root would have been annoyed by this hindrance, but Daniella was intrigued by every small tank and mural they passed.  Root didn’t mind stopping to let her daughter squeal and fawn over the exotic fish and turtles, especially since her daughter would look at her expectantly and point to the signs, wanting Root to read every single one.

“Okay, Ella bird…what do we have here?”  Root whispered as she sidestepped around a pair of boys swatting at each other with inflatable sword fish.  Root adjusted her hold on Daniella and pointed to the tank in front of them, nudging her child gently with her nose.  Daniella reluctantly lifted her head from Root’s shoulder and squinted at the little orange and white fish zooming around the colorful anemones.  The child’s brown eyes instantly lit up and she kicked her heels excitedly, making Root wince slightly. 

“Nemo!”  The child shouted.  Root nodded and brushed a few curls from Daniella’s face. 

“Mhmm, these are Clownfish.  There are 30 different species of Clownfish, and they can vary in size, but generally they can grow anywhere between 4 to 7 inches long. The Clownfish is known for its distinctive coloring.”  Root intoned softly.  There were other children pressing up to the glass, and Root took a small step back to give them room. 

“C’est quelle couleur?”  Root asked Daniella.  “Blanc et…?” 

“Orange!”  The child beamed. 

Root nodded, watching the way the aquarium’s lighting sent shadows and shimmering blues racing over Daniella’s face. 

“The Clownfish eat algae, plankton, crustaceans, and small fish. They live in communities, usually in anemones, which can sting.  These anemones grow in warmer waters, so the Clownfish can often be found in the Indian Ocean, Red Sea, and Pacific Ocean.”  Root started to walk away, but Daniella tugged at her jacket lapel and pointed to a smaller sign near the tank. 

Root squinted and smiled.

"Fun fact, Ella…the Clownfish gets its name because it is a very funny fish.  The Clownfish is very active and it is often seen doing various forms of acrobatics. This is where the name comes from; it often seems to be clowning around.”  Daniella giggled behind her hand.

Root hesitated when a foghorn went off overhead and the corridor around her erupted with children squealing and parents attempting to hold onto them as the entire group surged toward the opening at the end of the hall.  Root could see that the end of the corridor emptied into a much wider area, one with natural lighting rather than this eerie, blue half-light.  And the signs indicated the dolphin pool was just ahead.  Daniella perked up at the obvious change of atmosphere around her and shot Root a questioning look.  Before Root could speak, the ringing of the fading foghorn peal became an enthusiastic voice announcing the dolphin show would begin in five minutes. 

Daniella squirmed out of Root’s arms and tugged on her hand, dragging her mother toward the outdoor tank and the surrounding amphitheater.  Root kept her eyes moving until she located the three closest exits as Daniella pulled her to a bench row in the middle of the theatre.  There were already seals in the water, with trainers droning on about feeding habits and the personality of the three animals already at play.  Root sat down, but Daniella was still on her feet—straining to see everything at once.  Root smiled fondly and kept one hand firmly on Daniella’s shoulder, keeping her daughter within reach.  She was still a little tense.  She didn’t like being so exposed, even if she trusted that the Machine would warn her in time if there were any perceivable threats. 

“It’s a little strange, don’t you think…a little girl from Finland speaking French and English.” 

Root nearly jumped when she heard the voice at her left ear.  Her free hand instinctively went to her gun at the small of her back, but a firm hand stopped her before she could reach it.

“Don’t.” 

Root slid her eyes over to her left side, to the woman sitting beside her as if no threat had been issued.  Root felt her mouth go a little dry, even though her heart started beating faster. 

“Shaw?”  She whispered weakly. 

The woman turned to look at Root, her dark eyes glinting even though the rest of her face was completely stoic. 

“I think you have some explaining to do, Root.” 


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t often that Shaw caught Root at a loss for words. 

She relished the feeling now, of having one-upped the woman who always knew exactly how to twist her words to get what she wanted, how to twist Shaw’s own words and leave her speechless.  The expression on Root’s face almost made up for the horrible morning she’d had…almost. 

“You wanna tell me what you’re doing with my number?”  Shaw demanded. 

She watched Root’s eyes widen and her whole body stiffen. 

“I…I don’t know what you mean.”  Root forced as she turned away, pretending to take notice of the show as she sub-consciously drew the child closer to her.  Shaw snorted, continuing to glare directly at Root. 

“Don’t play dumb, Root.  What’s going on?”  Shaw persisted. 

There was another loud whistle that hurt Shaw’s ears and at the same moment, the lights over the aquarium were cut.  Shaw’s weapon was out in a moment, but she could see immediately that the blackout was intentional as neon lights and sparklers went off near the pool as the announcer introduced the dolphins one at a time.  Shaw breathed through her nose and hid her weapon away quickly, though she couldn’t help but notice that in the confusion, Root had drawn the little girl up into her lap protectively as if on instinct. 

“Root.  It’s not safe here.”  Shaw’s voice was low again, a warning. 

Most of the others around them were on their feet cheering, it masked the silent battle going on between the two women.  Shaw was antsy on her feet, while Root remained stubbornly seated as if to defy all of Shaw’s warnings and common sense. 

Root glanced up sharply at Shaw, her expression annoyed and perhaps more than a little upset. 

“You don’t have to stay, Shaw.  I told Harold to give you and the big lug the day off.”  Root shot at her. 

Shaw snorted and sat back down stiffly.  The child in Root’s arms was squealing with delight and straining to see as much of the pool as she could.  Shaw leaned away a little from her abundant energy. 

"I know, I heard you.”  Shaw said as the crowd finally got over its initial mania and started to settle back for the show. 

“Bugging Harry’s office…why am I not surprised?”  Root said dryly. 

The man next to Shaw jostled her good naturedly and pointed toward the pool.  Shaw gave him a false smile as she twisted his arm painfully and stole his popcorn.  The poor man in a sweat-suit let out a yelp and stumbled over several small children trying to get away.  They received several curious looks, but Shaw ignored them and grabbed a handful of popcorn. 

“You’re lucky I did, otherwise you and your daughter would both be dead.”  Shaw said around a mouthful of buttered popcorn.  Root’s expression fell.  She was so stunned that the girl was able to wriggle away and lurch forward to clap and squeal as the dolphins flipped through raised hoops.

“She’s not my daughter.”  Root said with difficulty.  Shaw snorted, letting Root know how little she believed her. 

“That’s too bad.  Guess she _is_ an orphan then.”  Root inhaled sharply as if she’d been punched and closed her eyes.

“Klaus and Reeta…” 

“Dead.”  Shaw confirmed without colour.  Root’s expression was pained.  Shaw looked away and took another handful of popcorn, glaring pointedly at the boy who had turned around to stare. 

“They were good people…they didn’t deserve…did they suffer?”  Root whispered. 

Shaw grimaced and turned to look at Root.  She wasn’t going to lie, and she knew Root wouldn’t want her to.  Root nodded as if she completely understood and shook her head slightly.

“Shaw, I…”     

“Mommy, look!”  The child chose that moment to turn and tug on Root’s lapel, to direct her attention toward the dolphins making their circuit around the tank.  Root’s face immediately changed to one of pacifying affection and she leaned forward to hold onto the girl’s hips and rest her chin on the child’s shoulder so she could be as close as possible as she pointed out the three dolphins and babbled away about them.

Shaw watched the transformation without comment.  She was surrounded by loud, obnoxious children whose parents didn’t seem to care at all that their children were throwing popcorn, snorting cotton candy, smacking each other with various plush animals, screaming at the top of their lungs, and crowding into the splash zone.  But Root and this child seemed somehow cut off from that crowd. 

If Shaw could notice it, others could too. 

Shaw looked around again, noting the exits as she absent-mindedly stuffed some buttered popcorn in her face.  She didn’t like how exposed they were. 

“Root, we have to leave.”  Shaw said evenly, fingering her weapon for reassurance. 

Root released her daughter and leaned close to Shaw so she could speak only for her to hear.

"Don’t call me that here.”  Root whispered hurriedly.  “You shouldn’t even be here, Shaw.  I told Harry I could handle it—”

“Mommy, qui est-ce?”  The child interrupted, drawing Root’s attention.  She stood between Root’s legs now, turned into Root as if she cold mold herself to the woman.  But her wide brown eyes were focused on Shaw. 

Shaw felt a strange prickling sensation at the base of her neck—she wasn’t sure if it came from the unnatural association of Root with the term ‘mommy’ or from the sensation of being trapped by the child’s wide brown eyes…eyes that were so similar to Root’s.  Shaw shrugged the feeling off and leaned forward before Root could recover.  She tugged the golden sticker from the child’s jumper, earning a frown from the little girl.

“Yeah, because you’re handling this all so well.”  Shaw said sarcastically as she held the identifying sticker up for Root to see with a roll of her eyes.  It was a gold sticker from the Hostel, identifying the child as a “Special Guest of Broadway Hotel & Hostel”, complete with a number to call in case she wandered away from the group.  It should have been the first thing to go.

“Shaw…”  Root’s voice carried a warning.

“You think the chaperones from the hotel don’t have aquarium security looking everywhere for her?”  Shaw demanded, aware that the child was watching this argument with growing confusion on her face.  Shaw was aware, she simply didn’t care.  It wasn’t the kid’s fault she’d been caught in this custody battle, but Shaw wasn’t about to let Root get their number killed.  Shaw shoved the popcorn bucket toward the child’s chest to get her to stop staring at her with such wide eyes. 

“They probably don’t take kindly to parents stealing their kids back without going through the proper channels.”  Shaw said pointedly, hoping it would throw Root off again.  Instead, Root’s expression darkened and she calmly removed the popcorn bucket from the little girl’s hands and held it on her knee, shaking it to indicate the child could indeed retrieve some for herself, though Root’s eyes remained fixed on Shaw’s face. 

“I told you, _I_ don’t have a daughter…”  Root said darkly as the child bent over to retrieve the snack, completely unaware of the stare down happening over her head. 

Shaw was not about to blink first. 

She didn’t have to. 

Root let out a small sigh and glanced down tenderly at the little girl. 

“But Marguerite does…cherche ici, Ella bird.”       

Shaw watched with a prick of unease as the little girl looked up promptly at Root. 

Shaw remembered Harold’s voice from this morning…Marguerite La Penn was listed as the child’s birth mother.  Finch had said something about her records…before the line had gone kaput.

Root smiled and tucked a few curls back behind the child’s ear.    

“Daniella, this is my friend, Sameen.  She and I work together.”  Root said gently as she brushed stray popcorn kernels from Daniella’s jumper. 

“Sah-meen?”  The child tried the name, testing its weight on her tongue.  The child curtsied a little at Shaw, stumbling so Root had to catch her, dropping the popcorn.  Shaw watched it tumble in circles over the edge and spill down the back of the boy who had turned to stare before.  She smirked as he howled with displeasure, though his parental units didn’t seem to notice. 

Daniella looked up at Root as if she’d discovered something.  “Sah-meen…It’s pretty.”  The child proclaimed. 

Root’s soft smile turned sly at that and her eyes darkened ever so slightly.  It was the first Root-like expression that Shaw had seen since she’d arrived. 

“I certainly think so.”  Root said with a smirk in Shaw’s direction. 

Daniella giggled.  She was playing with Root’s hands, lacing her small fingers through the older woman’s, her expression wistful. 

Shaw’s eyebrows came together.

“It’s Shaw.  And you should come with me.”  Shaw said. 

The child pulled away, even though Shaw hadn’t even made a grab for her.  The child folded herself even further into Root, her eyes wide.

“Sameen, stop it.  You’re scaring her.”  Root said in a low tone Shaw had never heard her use before. 

Root was always upbeat and almost maddeningly whimsical.  Shaw glanced from one pair of big brown eyes to the other. 

“Maybe she should be scared, R— _Marguerite_.  There were quite a few bad guys out for her at the Hostel, and there could be more.”  Shaw said evenly. 

Root’s eyes darkened even further.

“You think the threat is still active?”  Root asked in a low voice so Daniella wouldn’t hear. 

“As far as I know, you’re the threat, _Root_.”  Shaw growled. 

There was a giant splash from the tank as if to punctuate Shaw’s ultimatum.  But while the rest of the crowd leapt to its feet and exploded in cheers, Shaw was looking right at Root, saying plenty through her eyes. 

Root’s lips were a tight line. 

“Ella bird, are you ready to go?”  Root asked, finally breaking eye contact with Shaw to look down at the child.  The little girl looked a little unsure and she rubbed at her ankle with her other little foot.

“Back to Klaus and Reeta?”  The child asked, clinging a little tighter to Root’s hand. 

Root’s face betrayed nothing of the grim impossibility of that scenario.    

“No, Ella…you’re going to come stay with me for awhile.”  Root explained. 

The child’s confusion melted away and she laughed as she threw her arms around Root’s neck.  Root’s smile flickered and then disappeared as she stood up, her eyes honing in on the closest exit.

“Don’t worry, Ella…I’ll keep you safe.  Tell Sameen goodbye.”  Root was already moving, using her long legs to sashay around and over the children between her and the stairs. 

It took a moment for Shaw to register what had happened.  She darted down the aisle after Root, jumping over legs and diaper bags alike. 

“Root!  What do you think you’re—“

“Bye, bye, Sameen.”  The child called from Root’s hip, waving her hand tiredly as she nestled her head down on Root’s shoulder. 

Shaw scowled as she picked up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up to Root. 

“Root, stop!”  Shaw grabbed Root’s arm and yanked her to a stop, moving to stand in front of her. 

“I can’t let you take her.”  Shaw said angrily. 

As the words left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous it sounded, but she wasn’t going to let Root just walk away with the child just because she looked just like her and was identified as Daniella’s ‘mommy’.  That was a headache Shaw could figure out later.  What was definitely more immediate were the two dead bodies left in the Hostel and all the assassins sent to destroy the Finnish family.  Something was terribly wrong here, and Shaw wasn’t going to let the child out of her sight until she was sure the threat was eradicated. 

_My mission, my responsibility._

“Stay out of this, Sameen.” 

“No, Marguerite, or Samantha, or Root or whoever you are.”  Shaw snapped back, tightening her grip on Root’s elbow, applying pressure just enough to make it uncomfortable.  “I don’t know what the Machine told you, but it sent the girl’s number to Harold, which means it’s my job to protect her.  And you’re getting in my way.” 

Root looked for a moment like she might say something in retort, but instead she brought her free hand up to hold Daniella’s head a little more securely on her shoulder, her eyes getting that dreamy look she always got when communing with the Machine…dreamy but fearful. 

“Thug with a glauc...three o’clock.”

Shaw spun on her heel as Root finished, already pulling her piece free of her pocket.  She could see the man Root was referencing, medium build, Caucasian with sandy hair dressed all in black…he was showing a picture to the security guard across the lobby.  Both men were turning toward them at that moment, the security guard looked surprised to see a weapon, but the mercenary looked pleased as he raised his own. 

Shaw could feel Root moving behind her, darting to the nearest column to hide the child as bullets began to fly. Shaw fired three in quick succession--she could not account for the accuracy of the assassin.

Shaw moved with Root, doing her best to keep her body between the mercenary and Root, shielding her as best she could while Root curled in around the little girl.  Shaw clipped the mercenary in the shoulder, aware that the security guard was calling for backup while the lobby and surrounding corridors erupted into chaos, screams and sirens and alarms. 

“Go!”  Shaw shouted. 

Root had already scooped up the little girl again and was making for the closest exit. Shaw covered her, sweeping over the running crowds with her gun as she backed away.  The security guard had jumped behind a column, and the mercenary was down for the count, but the aquarium was still complete chaos as if the gunfight were still raging.  Shaw caught a glimpse of rushing water from one of the jellyfish tanks, hit by a stray bullet.  There were several children standing ankle deep in saltwater, bawling their eyes out as if it were the end of the world. 

Shaw sighed and ducked out of the aquarium. 

She just couldn’t catch a break today.


	6. Chapter 6

Root held Daniella close to her chest as her eyes scanned for the quickest way out. 

Daniella was crying uncontrollably, and Root tried to multi-task—soothe her daughter and listen to the Machine’s instructions.  The chaos from the aquarium seemed to have followed them outside, as sirens and shouts came from all directions.  Root followed the flow of frightened aquarium visitors to avoid standing out.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Shaw sticking out like a sore thumb as she cut away from the crowd and right to the closest car—all in plain view of the police officers coming their way from the Hostel down the street.  Root did not have time to deal with Shaw’s aggressive tactics.

“Come on!”  Shaw slammed the butt of her gun through the driver’s side window of the nearest car, a Lexus.  She already had the door open and was brushing the glass from the seat when she realized Root wasn’t right behind her. 

“No, this one!”  Root called over her shoulder. 

She used her elbow to bust out the passenger window of a minivan.  She didn’t turn to look, but she knew Shaw probably rolled her eyes on the way across the street.  There were still many families and individuals running around like crazy, masking Root’s more delicate take on vehicular theft.  She swept the glass into the street with her free arm and unlocked the van, trying to rock Daniella as she did so. 

“No way, Root, it’s not fast enough…”  Shaw called. 

Root ignored her and slid open the side door, trying not to stiffen or turn when she heard the aquarium doors fly open again.

“They went that way!”  Someone shouted. 

Daniella was still crying and Shaw was cursing under her breath. 

Root glanced up at the nearest traffic camera, giving the Machine a look that begged for a little help.

Shaw was in the driver’s seat, not really helping the situation.  Root decided to focus on Daniella.  She was finding it hard to get the straps of the car seat to lock with her hands shaking.  Root took a deep breath and soothed her daughter as best she could, keeping her voice low and comforting, 

“Everything’s alright, Ella bird…you just sit tight, we’ll get out of here real soon.”  Root crooned. 

Shaw yanked the rearview mirror down so hard it snapped off.  Shaw tossed it aside in disgust, going for the wires with gusto, making a note to kick Root’s ass later for making her drive something so detestable. 

“Mommy!” 

Daniella was crying and sputtering half sentences in a mix of French and English as she tried to express her overwhelming confusion and fear. 

Shaw tried to ignore it as she used her pocket knife to splice the wires. 

“Hey, I think that’s them!”  A voice snaked its way into Shaw’s ear. 

She glanced up and saw the man in the sweat suit talking animatedly to one of the first police officers to arrive.  He was pointing in the wrong direction, but still…Shaw took it as their cue to get the hell out of there.

“Root, get in the van.”  Shaw snarled as the wires finally sparked and the engine roared to life.  Shaw was already backing up at high speeds as Root jumped up and slammed the side door closed.  She stayed crouched next to the car seat where the child was strapped securely in, whispering to her as Shaw tried to get them as far away from the aquarium as possible. 

“Everything’s alright now, Daniella.  Look at me, see?  Everything’s alright.  Those men are gone, and you’re safe with me.  It’s going to be alright.  I promise.”  Root whispered as she kissed Daniella’s fist. 

The child continued to cry and reached for Root, straining against the straps that held her in place. 

“Not yet, Ella bird…can you sing me a song?   Let’s sing a song to help us forget all the bad things that happened today…will you sing with me?” 

Despite the circumstances, Root’s voice somehow remained strangely calm.  She was thankful for that, but she was also surprised at herself.  She took calming breaths as she brushed Daniella’s curls away from her tear stained cheeks.  Root started humming softly. 

“Ah j'ai vu, j'ai vu.”  Root whispered. 

“Come on, Ella, I can’t hear you.  Sing with me.  Ah j’ai vu, j’ai vu…”  Root tried again. 

Shaw glanced up at the mirror and then cursed under her breath when she saw the broken mount.  She gripped the wheel tighter and focused on the road as she sped around another corner. 

“I know you know this song, Ella, my little bird.  Sing it with me.”  Root prodded, brushing Daniella’s cheeks with her knuckles. 

“Ah j’ai vu, j’ai vu…”  The child’s watery voice finally contributed a little in sniffles, growing a little stronger as Root leaned closer and kissed her temple. 

_Ah j'ai vu, j'ai vu_

_Compère qu'as-tu vu ?_

_J'ai vu une vache_

_Qui dansait sur la glace_

_A la Saint Jean d'été_

_Compère vous mentez_

           

“Shaw, take a right here.”  Root kept her voice low as the child continued to sing the little ditty. 

Shaw did as she asked, itching to turn around to glare at Root, but she kept her eyes on the road.  There would be time to express her dissatisfaction with Root’s performance on this mission later, once they were actually out of danger and not singing nursery rhymes in a stolen minivan. 

“And where are we going, exactly?  The safe house is on the other side of—” 

“Trust me.  She’s taken care of it.”  Root said briskly. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and tried not to listen as Root returned her full attention to the sing-along in the back.  It was actually a catchy tune, and if Shaw wasn’t careful, she was sure it would be stuck in her head for a week.

“That’s beautiful, Ella…let’s keep going.  Sing with me,

_Ah j'ai vu, j'ai vu_

_Compère qu'as-tu vu ?_

_J'ai vu une grenouille_

_Qui faisait la patrouille_

_Le sabre au côté_

_Compère vous mentez_

_Ah j'ai vu, j'ai vu_

_Compère qu'as-tu vu ?_

_Ah j'ai vu un loup_

_Qui vendait des choux_

_Sur la place Labourée_

_Compère vous mentez_

_Ah j'ai vu, j'ai vu_

_Compère qu'as-tu vu ?_

_J'ai vu une anguille_

_Qui coiffait sa fille_

_Pour s'aller marier_

_Compère vous mentez._


	7. Chapter 7

Shaw pulled the van under an abandoned bridge that was off the beaten path and cut the engine. 

Root hardly looked up, she was preoccupied with keeping Daniella entertained. 

“I better check in with Finch.”  Shaw grunted as she kicked her door open. 

Root nodded, but said nothing. 

After a moment of hesitation, Shaw reached back in and took the keys with her.  She was pretty sure she and Root were stuck working this number together for now, but she was also more than aware that they still weren’t on the same page. 

“Finch?”  Shaw called as she touched her ear. 

There was static for a moment, but then she heard a flustered Finch on the line.

“Oh, Miss Shaw, there you are, I’ve been so worried.  Are you hurt…”

“No, no, I’m fine.  Listen, Harold.  This whole thing went sideways…”  Shaw started. 

“Do you have eyes on our number, Miss Shaw?  Is the girl safe?”  Harold interrupted again. 

Shaw glanced through the van window at Daniella playing a clapping game with Root as if she’d completely forgotten about the trauma of the gunfight not twenty minutes ago.

“You could say that.”  Shaw said darkly. 

“Good.  That is a relief, I had already put a call in to most of the hospitals and even Ms. Morgan…I wasn’t sure who else to send, but if you’d gone dark much longer, I was prepared to send her and Mr. Reese after you.”

Shaw snorted at the thought.

“I don’t need back-up on this, Harold.  In fact, I have more help than I want.”  Shaw said pointedly.

“I assume you ran into Miss Groves, then?”  Harold inquired. 

Shaw made a face as more static filled the line, almost painful this time. 

“Yeah, and Harold, there’s something you should know…”  Shaw growled as the static picked up in frequency, nearly sending her to her knees. 

“Finch, you have got to get these lines cleared.”  Shaw snarled. 

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening any time soon.”

Shaw whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice.  Her hand went to her pocket, not for her gun, though she did still harbor a strong desire to shoot Root whenever she pulled something like this, sneaking up on Shaw was not something many could do more than once—yet Root seemed to enjoy pushing Shaw to the brink…Shaw grabbed the keys in a tight fist and spun away from Root.

“What is that supposed to mean, Root?”  Shaw demanded.

“Shaw, please…”  Root was holding up her hands as if to make herself look less threatening…not that Shaw found her threatening.  Not at all.  Other people could be afraid of Root though, she _was_ rather dangerous. 

“Are you doing this?”  Shaw demanded, pointing to her ear piece. 

“I asked Her to jam your connection to Harold…”

“Why?”  Shaw demanded.  Root had her hands raised as if to ease Shaw down from her angry place.

“Shaw, listen…”

“Are you even interested in protecting your daughter?  You know we’ll need Harold’s help…” 

Shaw’s voice was elevated, but she didn’t care.  Shaw and Root hadn’t always been on the best of terms, but Shaw had to admit, begrudgingly, that they did usually work pretty well together.  But under no circumstances would she tolerate interference on a mission…not even from Root.

“I told you, she’s not—“  Root cut in quickly.  Her voice had that angry quality to it, as if violence were imminent. 

Root’s hands shook and she slowly lowered them, obviously fighting to keep herself calm.

“Shaw, Daniella is not _my_ daughter.” 

Shaw scoffed and started to turn away, but Root scrambled to stop her, to slam her against the side of the van.  Shaw was about to fight her off, but something in Root’s eyes made her hesitate—it wasn’t anger, it was desperation. 

“You said before that you thought maybe the threat to Ella…to the number was me…and you could be right.  No one knows about…about my connection to her.  There is no digital record of Root the hacker having any family connections of any kind.  I made sure that there was no link--none whatsoever. The life I lead as Root, it doesn’t…it _can’t_ touch her.” 

“Root…”  Shaw tried, but Root slammed Shaw’s head back against the van for emphasis.

“ _No_ , you can’t call me that around her.  Shaw, you have to understand…the life I’ve led, it’s messy.  You know that.  I have many enemies…people who would give anything to find a way to hurt me, to make me suffer for the terrible things I’ve done.  It wasn’t ever a problem before, there was nothing I cared about—you, me, Harold, and even John…we all know that attachments are liabilities.  We’ve all made sacrifices to make us what we are…Daniella was mine.  No one can know, Shaw.”  Root was pleading now, and Shaw knew it.  She could hear the static jumping in her ear, as Finch tried to re-establish a connection. 

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that whoever sent those morons…that _someone_ already knows?”  Shaw demanded as she shoved Root away. 

“Yes.  And I will deal with that, but please…no one else.  No one but you.  I promise I’ll tell you everything if you want, but please, Shaw...keep Harold and the others out of it.”  Root whispered. 

She looked nervous, and paler than usual.  Shaw was pretty sure that if they weren’t standing on such a disgusting surface as broken asphalt littered with cigarettes butts, old fast food containers, used condoms and other trash, Root would probably be on her knees begging.  The thought made Shaw smile a little.  

“Sameen… _please_.” 

Shaw scowled at the use of _that_ tone.  It was soft and almost intimate…the kind of tone Root would only use for her, and only when she meant it. 

“Miss Shaw?”  Harold’s voice finally came through over the line.  “We seem to have a bad connection, I’m working as fast as I can to find the glitch…”  Harold’s voice was getting steadily clearer. 

Shaw kept her eyes fixed on Root, her face as stoic as ever. 

“Yeah, ah…you keep working on that, Finch.  Root…well, she and I have the number.  We’re taking her to a safe location off the grid.”  Shaw said evenly. 

She could see tears shining in Root’s eyes and Shaw coughed as she shifted her eyes away.  

“Oh, I do hope you’re both…safe.”  Harold tried.  Shaw sniffed and played with the keys in her hand. 

“We ah…ran into some trouble at the aquarium, but we’re all fine.  Fusco’ll have a field day though…left him quite a mess.”  Shaw said. 

Shaw's eyebrows rose as she saw a small figure appear from behind the van.  The little girl walked up to lean against Root’s leg. 

“Trouble?  I hope no one was hurt…”  Finch murmured. 

Shaw rolled her eyes. 

Finch still seemed to think she was reckless and overly aggressive on her missions.    

“Whoever is behind this, Finch…they have means.  And they’re determined.  They hired multiple guns for this job…and they weren’t satisfied with Christenson and his wife…the girl is a part of the deal too.  This was a job meant to wipe out an entire family…it was personal.”  Shaw muttered. 

She stared at the child.  Daniella had reached up to tug on Root’s jacket and was now whispering to her mother…to Root. 

“Yes, it is very troubling.  Since Miss Christenson is also a target, we may safely assume this isn’t a custodial battle, of her birth parents trying to reestablish a relationship with their child…”  Finch started.

“I’m not so sure we can rule anything out, Finch.”  Shaw said carefully, keeping her eyes on Root. 

“You’re right, of course.  We’ll know more once Detective Fusco identifies our mystery assassins for us.  Miss Christenson’s personal files are very cleverly hidden, someone has been protecting her for quite some time, but perhaps our perpetrator is not so careful…I will see if the money can lead us anywhere.  With so many hitmen involved, there must be something.”  Finch said. 

Shaw nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her. 

“And while you’re at it…you may check into why Christenson was in the country in the first place…it may help.”  Shaw said carefully. 

“I’ll see what I can find…you and Miss Groves should try to get what you can from the little girl.”  Finch suggested.  

“Will do, Finch.  I’ll ah…check back in when we’re settled.”  Shaw finished with a scowl.

“Wait, Miss Shaw!”  Shaw hesitated, her hand hovering near her ear, ready to switch off her comm.  “You would do well to remember that this little girl has had a trying day, and her parents are now dead…try to be gentle.”

“Gentle, Harold?”  Shaw asked, eyebrow raised.  “I can _be_ gentle.”

  “Yes…”  Harold didn’t sound convinced.  “Perhaps you should allow Miss Groves to provide most of the care for the child while she is with you.”

“You think _Miss Groves_ would be better?”  Shaw asked incredulously.  She was of course, staring right at Root bending down to listen carefully to the little girl, a perfect scene of tranquility—but she still wouldn’t have believed such a thing possible unless she were forced to stare at it straight on, which she was.  So she was surprised at Harold’s favoritism. 

“Miss Groves has proven herself well adept at pacifying the needs of others when it suits her.  All I mean to say is, her people skills are a little more refined than your own…not that you aren’t making progress, Miss Shaw.”  Harold tried to backtrack.  Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Harold.”  Shaw switched off her link and scowled at Root. 

Root finally stopped giggling with her little girl to look up at Shaw and her expression immediately morphed.  Root straightened up, though she still had a firm hold of Daniella’s hand. 

“I told Finch that we’re working this one together.”  Shaw said stiffly. 

Root let out a breath and smiled slightly.

“Thank you, Sameen.”  Root said in a tone that was dripping with genuine gratitude. 

Shaw shivered. 

“Who’s ‘Finch’?”  The child’s nose crinkled up as she tried the new name. 

Root ran her fingers through the little girl’s hair. 

“Harold is someone who works with Sameen and I.  He is a very important man.”  Root explained gently. 

Shaw coughed and looked up at the sky…well _, toward_ the sky.  The underside of the concrete bridge was all she could see. 

“It’s almost noon.  We should…probably feed her.”  Shaw said coldly. 

“Je suis maman faim.”  The little girl said, one hand on her tummy. 

Root nodded and hefted the girl up to her hip.

“I know, Ella bird.  We’ll get you some food…and something else to wear.  Then we’ll find someplace safe.”  Root said thoughtfully as she bit her lower lip.  The child nodded.

“For you and me?”  She asked hesitantly. 

Root nodded, kissing the child’s forehead as she disappeared around the back of the car, on her way to deposit the child back in her carseat. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and yanked the driver’s door open.  She froze, about to hop up when she heard the child say something else,

“And Sah-meen too?” 

“Yes, Ella.  You and me and Sameen are going someplace safe.  We won’t let anything happen to you.”


	8. Chapter 8

By the third repetition of ‘ _Frere Jacques_ ’, Daniella was finally nodding off.  Root continued humming and stroking her daughter’s hair for a few more minutes until the Machine buzzed in her ear again. 

Then Root finally sat up and stretched her back for the first time in what felt like hours. 

“Take a left up here, Sameen.”  Root said as she crawled through the space between the front seats and dusted the broken glass away as best she could before she sat down wearily in the passenger seat. 

This was the third car they’d lifted.  And Shaw had insisted on something faster than the minivan…though Root wished they had gone with something a little roomier than this Arcadia.  There was room for Daniella’s car seat and the trunk was full of the little things she’d picked up on the way out of the city, but up front…her legs hardly had any room.  It wasn’t quite dark yet, but she still felt exhausted, as if the day had run its full course.    

“And this day just keeps getting better and better.”  Shaw muttered as she did as Root instructed. 

Root felt the familiar anger in her chest boil over a little at that remark and she was about to remind Shaw that she had specifically told Harold that she could handle this number alone, but then she felt the comforting thrill of the Machine’s hum in her ear and she slumped back instead, closing her eyes as she turned her head to look at Shaw. 

She had started this day looking forward to possibly working with Shaw again…and then everything had gone sideways.    

“I’m sorry, Sam.”  She could feel Shaw’s shock radiating toward her at such an easy victory.  Usually Root would never give ground so quickly, but she was exhausted. 

Root turned her head away. 

“I’m sorry you were dragged into my mess…You deserve an explanation.” 

“Doesn’t mean I want one.”  Shaw muttered under her breath. 

Root heard her and sighed.  Shaw had pulled into the driveway of the quaint little house, complete with white picket fence.  Aside from the bold ‘Sold’ sign out front, it was identical to every other house on this block, in this suburb really.  Root kept her forehead pressed against the glass, her lips compressed in a thin line as she listened to the Machine detailing the most direct routes of escape from this little neighborhood, just to be safe. 

Root closed her eyes so she could focus solely on the beeps coming through her implant. 

She felt the car thrum to a stop.  She heard Shaw huff as she twisted the keys out of the ignition, but she didn’t hear the door opening. 

It was quiet for a moment. 

Even the Machine went silent. 

“Well go ahead, I’m listening.”  Shaw said lowly. 

Root sighed as she sat up, brushing a few curls from her face.  She didn’t look at Shaw but twisted in her seat to look back at her daughter. 

“Wake up, Ella bird, we’re here.” 

Root ignored Shaw's indignant glare and unbuckled her own seat belt so she could slip out her door and get to Daniella faster.  Her daughter was still groggily stretching when she unbuckled her. 

“Hey there, sleepyhead.  Come on, we made it.”  Root whispered as she lifted the sleeping child up and started toward the house. 

“Root!”  Shaw sounded exasperated. 

Root shot Shaw a warning glare and hurried away from her to get Daniella out of hearing, glad that her child was still too sleepy to even acknowledge Shaw, much less what she’d said. 

“Don’t worry, Ella bird.  My friend Sameen will grab all of your nice new things and bring them in for you.  We’re going to go ahead and look for your room.  Aren’t you ready for bed?  I’m ready for bed.”  Root continued in the same calm, soothing voice as she followed the sidewalk toward the door. 

“Is the sky sick?”  Daniella asked sleepily. 

Root froze, one hand reaching for the keys the Machine had told her were in the mailbox. 

“No…why would you ask that, Ella?”  Root asked, pulling out the keys and the packet of paperwork the real estate agent had kindly left for them. 

Daniella shifted in Root’s arms, twisting her neck to stare up at the sky.

“No stars.”  Daniella said around a yawn.  She pointed at the few stars that were visible.  “In Finland, they are everywhere.  But since Klaus brought us to the city of America…no more stars.”  Daniella said with a shrug. 

Root frowned and pulled the door open. 

“I’m sorry about that, Ella bird.  I’ll see if I can fix that for you…”  Root murmured as she crossed the threshold, leaving Shaw flustered and mad outside. 

Root knew technically she couldn’t fix the smog over New York City all on her own…but she could give her daughter open skies when she sent her away again.  She had been very picky when choosing a family for her child the first time, and she knew she would have to be even more meticulous the second time.  Because as much as she loved holding her daughter close, and listening to her stories, and brushing her hair, and listening to her breathe…she knew this couldn’t last. 

The thought made her sad, but it was inevitable.  Sometimes it was knowing that something couldn’t last forever, it’s finite nature, that made it so beautiful. 

Root was determined to hold onto her daughter as long as possible, but she wouldn’t fight the change she knew was coming. 

She would let go.

The inside of the little Suburban house was dark.  Root could make out vague shapes, but she didn’t even try to navigate the large open den.  Instead she headed right for the stairs, going up to the little room that had already been furnished for a young child.  Root could feel Daniella’s head already getting heavier as she drifted toward sleep, but she kept whispering to her the way the Machine always did on fitful nights…it had always helped her to have good dreams. 

Maybe she could do that for Daniella. 

“Look, here we are…isn’t it nice?”  Root murmured as she headed straight for the bed. 

Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the little dresser and bookcases, the tea table, the play palace and the quilt rack in the far corner…the Machine had mentioned the home was bought furnished with everything they would need, but until now Root had been a little skeptical. 

“I never should have doubted you.”  Root whispered as she gently laid Daniella down on the bed. 

The entire room was painted in pale pastels, yellow on one wall, then pink and purple and blue.  The quilt on the bed was covered in stripes matching the walls.  And there were pale pink flowers in the vase on the nightstand.

“Mommy, will you be here when I wake up?”  Daniella asked, her eyes suddenly wide and almost afraid. 

“Of course, Ella.  I’ll stay right here with you.”  Root said as reassuringly as she could. 

There was a cough and Root looked over her shoulder, not surprised to see Shaw sulking in the doorway. 

“Thought you might need…ah, the pajamas.”  Shaw said stiffly. 

Root said nothing and Shaw rolled her eyes.  She dropped the shopping bag of clothes inside the door and turned on her heel. 

“Why is Sah-meen angry?”  Daniella asked as Root pushed off from the bed and went to retrieve the clothes. 

“She’s always angry, baby.  Here, let’s get you ready for bed.”  Root said as she tossed the pajamas down on the bed and helped her daughter out of her jumper and shoes and tights.  Daniella shivered as Root removed the tags from the new pajamas.  Root tried to be as gentle as possible as she pulled the onesie on and zipped it up tight. 

“There, how’s that?”  Root asked with a smile. 

Daniella’s eyebrows were furrowed as she held out her arms to critically appraise the purple and black material. 

“My tummy’s all fuzzy.”  Daniella said cryptically. 

Root laughed and lifted her back up onto the bed. 

“I know, Ella bird.  It’s to help you fly…” 

Daniella squealed with delight as Root brought her in a high arc up and over the bed before plopping her down on the soft blankets. 

“That was fun.”  Daniella panted. 

Root smirked as she tucked the blankets around her daughter. 

“Try to sleep now, okay?”  Root prompted. 

Daniella nodded, but her eyes stayed open so she could watch Root moving around the room, tucking the new clothes into the drawers and pulling the curtains closed against the night’s chill.  Once she’d made her rounds, Root circled back to the bed.

“Ella, why aren’t you asleep, baby girl?”  Root scolded. 

Ella wriggled down further under the blankets. 

“Will you sing to me?”  She asked. 

Root quirked an eyebrow.

“I thought you’d be all ‘singed’ out after the car ride.”  Root said pointedly. 

Ella sighed and brushed her hair out of her eyes and then smoothed the blankets as she gathered her thoughts.  Root cocked her hip and waited with a smile in her eyes for her daughter’s next attempt to prolong the inevitable. 

“May I…have a glass of water?”  Daniella asked slowly. 

Root nodded and turned to the door. 

“I’ll be right back…and I’m leaving this door open.”  Root said. 

Daniella nodded intelligently.

“Yes, that is a good idea, mommy.  To let in the light.” 

“We will have to get you a night light.”  Root said as her eyes swept over all the dark edges and corners in the room. 

“I don’t like the dark…”  Daniella said softly. 

She lifted her head to look at her mother again.  “You will come back?” 

Root smiled and nodded again, kneeling to retrieve the empty shopping bags. 

“Yes, I’ll be right back with your water.”  Root promised.

“Mommy?”  Daniella called. 

Root turned back.

“Yes, Ella?” 

“Will you hurry?”    


	9. Chapter 9

Shaw heard Root on the stairs, but she didn’t move.  She had already reset the alarm codes and checked all the entryways and exits.  She had double checked all of the windows and the sliding doors leading onto the back patio.  They were on lockdown.  No one was leaving this house without her say so…not that Root would leave.  She looked dead on her feet as it was, but if she tried, Shaw would stop her.  Shaw may not know anything about kids, but she knew how to run a tight compound.  Shaw was in charge of this mission. 

_My Mission; My responsibility._

“There’s no food in the fridge.”  Shaw said the moment Root appeared in the kitchen. 

Root didn’t seem surprised to see Shaw leaning against the counter, but she did seem surprised at Shaw’s serious tone. 

Shaw scowled.  She had tried to make sure Root understood the gravity of the situation.  They were stuck indefinitely out in suburbia, the two of them and a small child, with no food in the house…Shaw couldn’t be expected to work well on an empty stomach, and if she wasn’t performing at her best she may forget the temporary truce that had thus far kept her from shooting Root in the arm or the leg…she may forget the casual ‘familiarity’ that had sprouted between them.  She may forget that the people on the streets were probably neighbors and not threats. 

In other words--there could be casualties if Shaw didn't get some food soon.

She just wanted to be sure Root was aware of this. 

“Water’s running though.”  Shaw added when Root didn’t respond right away.  She picked up the glass of water she’d taken the liberty of filling and set it on the island that separated her and Root.  She slid it toward the other woman, half expecting Root to let it fall to the ground and shatter, but at the last moment, Root’s hand shot out to catch the glass. 

“She said we should have everything we need.”  Root said tiredly. 

“Except food.”  Shaw snapped.  Root sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"If you’re hungry, Shaw, just take the car and go get something to eat.”  Root suggested. 

Shaw glared at her. 

“And leave the number here unprotected?  No way.”  Shaw said firmly. 

Root scoffed.

“She wouldn’t be unprotected.  _I’m_ here.” 

Root hardly finished before Shaw’s gun slammed onto the glistening marble countertop. 

“Let’s get one thing straight.”  Shaw growled.  “You want me to keep your secret, then we do things my way.  You do the mothering; I do the protecting.  Got it?” 

Root blinked at Shaw. 

“You’re upset that I didn’t tell you about Daniella.”  Root said slowly as if this were the answer to everything.

“I don’t get upset.”  Shaw snapped coldly. 

“Angry, then.  You’re _angry_ with me.”  Root said, her expression changing to one Shaw knew well. 

Root’s fingers drummed along the glass and then she let go of it entirely so she could slowly start to come around the island toward Shaw.  “Why, Shaw?  Why are you angry with me this time?” 

“It would have been nice to know, that’s all.”  Shaw said stiffly. 

Root raised an eyebrow. 

She was directly across from Shaw now, leaning against the island while Shaw leaned against the counter.  They stared at each other for a moment.

“Do you have a rule about mothers?”  Root asked with that same, dark, mischievous look she’d had before.  “The same kind of rule that you have about three nights…”

“Maybe I do.”  Shaw challenged. 

Root laughed a little at that and pushed off from the counter, coming dangerously close to Shaw.  Shaw stiffened as Root gripped the counter, trapping her, but she didn’t flinch away.  She stared into Root’s eyes coldly, pretending that she didn’t find them intriguing and damn beautiful. 

“Oh, Sweetie…you of all people should know that rules are made to be broken.”  Root breathed into Shaw’s ear. 

Shaw fought the bending of her own will toward Root.  She frowned deeper and clenched her jaw. 

“Maybe that’s true for a hacker, Root.  But for a Marine…”  Shaw moved quickly, pushing Root squarely in the chest to throw her off-balance, using her height against her to spin her around as Shaw ducked under her arm.  It was a simple enough maneuver--and Root never saw it coming.  Now it was Shaw who was pinning Root down against the counter. 

“…rules don’t break.  There can only be exceptions.”  Shaw said with a triumphant smirk. 

Root looked startled for a moment, but slowly she grinned again and reached up to brush a loose strand of hair back behind Shaw’s ear. 

 “Am I the exception?”  Root asked with a smirk.  “ _Again_?” 

Shaw’s expression darkened to hide how Root had flustered her. 

She knew it was no use.  Root could do that, push and pull and somehow slither her way right through Shaw’s walls, right under her skin, and just live there.  And somehow they always ended up here, with Shaw forgetting why she was so angry in the first place and Root grinning up at her like she’d just won the keys to the kingdom.  Shaw never could get used to the way Root looked at her.  Sometimes it was unbearable.  Sometimes it creeped her out.  And on rare occasions…it actually made her feel… _nice_. 

Shaw coughed and straightened up, cutting the tension and stepping back. 

“You ah, told the girl you’d bring her some water.” 

Root blinked twice. 

“Yes.  Yes I did.”  Root stood up and ran a hand through her hair as she sidestepped around Shaw, making her way back around the island that was in the middle of the enormous kitchen.  It was huge, with industrial sized equipment and a pretty fancy set of stainless steel knives that Shaw had already weighed in each hand.  It was this perfection that made the lack of food even more painful.  Shaw loved to cook food almost as much as she loved eating it.  And to be so tempted without the means of fulfilling the itch she had to try every implement in sight was a new form of torture. 

“Shaw, you can have the master bedroom.”  Root said as she picked up the water glass, refusing to look Shaw in the eye. 

Shaw snorted and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the counter again.

“Couch’s fine.” Shaw grunted. 

Root started to say something, but thought better of it and left it at that. 

She didn’t look back. 

Shaw watched Root disappear from the warm light that seeped out from the kitchen as if this one room had the power to fill the whole house, which Shaw didn’t doubt.  She waited until she heard the soft closing of the child’s bedroom door before she reached up and swatted at her comm. 

“Finch, you there?”  She asked as she went to check the fridge one more time just in case she had missed something…a hidden compartment, a secret drawer, anything.

“I’m here, Miss Shaw.  I’m afraid I’ve nothing new to report on my end yet.  How is Miss Christenson?  It is after ten, Miss Shaw…Have you and Miss Groves arrived at the safe house?  Is the girl in bed?”  Harold’s questions only annoyed Shaw further. 

She slammed the fridge door, but was both impressed and angered to see that it was a specialty brand that didn’t allow for such things as satisfying crashes.  The force of her blow was absorbed and the door slowly swung closed of its own accord.  Shaw tested a drawer and found that they were the same way, non-slammable…probably invented to save the fingers of idiots and small children. 

Shaw sighed and used the barrel of her gun to move the curtains a little to the side so she could peer through the window above the sink across the spacious backyard toward the neighbors.

"Well, we’re in _a_ house…not quite sure it’s safe though.”  Shaw murmured. 

There was a bonfire or something going on in the neighbors to the west.  It looked to Shaw like some kind of cult gathering, though she could see they were only gathered around the fire pit to roast marshmellows.  She immediately hated them for making her stomach growl.        

“Where exactly are you, Miss Shaw?  Is Miss Christenson safe?”  Harold demanded. 

Shaw turned away from the window and crossed the kitchen, stepping into the dining room to check the window there for a better view of the neighbor’s house…suspecting them of nefarious behavior if only because holding a cook-out after ten o’clock seemed overkill and possibly illegal. 

“Calm down, Finch.  We’re in some form of Suburban hell, it’s what all the little girls dream of these days.”  Shaw said as she made her way through the den, noting that the flat-screen tv was something she didn’t absolutely hate. 

“That may actually be just the thing…our friends in the NYPD have shut down half the city looking for the child, which means that whoever wants her dead may already know of the failure of his plans.  And with the city on high alert, he may be forced to take more drastic measures…I believe it may be best for you and Miss Groves to stay away for now.  At least until Mr. Reese and I have some more information on who it is you are hiding from.”  Harold said in a tone that indicated he did not appreciate Shaw’s sarcasm.

“How you holding up, Shaw?”  That was Reese’s voice over the line.

“Oh, just dandy.”  Shaw said with an actual smile as she started stealthily up the stairs.

“And the girl?” 

Reese’s question came just as Shaw topped the stairs and had moved down the hall, her feet sinking in the carpet, but leaving no impression. 

Shaw peeked around the door jam and saw exactly what she’d expected to see.  The child was fast asleep, the glass of water half-empty on the nightstand, and Root curled protectively around her daughter.  Root was asleep as well, which was a relief in itself—mostly because Shaw found Root’s constant flirting annoying…most of the time.  And also because Shaw knew the Machine had been running Root ragged and she hadn’t been sleeping well.  Though Shaw thought it was quite a surprise that Root had fallen asleep so quickly.  Shaw carefully pulled the door toward her, leaving it only open a crack before she turned to slip back down the stairs even more carefully.

“Shaw?”  Reese called.  “Is the kid okay?”     

“Root’s with her.  She’s actually pretty good at this…pretend parenting thing.  For pretend.”  Shaw said, nearly stubbing her toe on the edge of the coffee table.  Shaw cursed and kicked at it, deciding it needed to be moved anyway. 

“Are you alright, Miss Shaw…”

“I honestly don’t know how you and Zoe did this, John.  We haven’t even been here two hours and my trigger finger’s getting itchy.”  Shaw snapped.  She could almost imagine Finch adjusting his glasses and glancing around as if to center himself while John would simply crack one of his half-smiles.

“Come on, Shaw.  This’ll be good for you.”  John’s scratchy voice betrayed his amusement.   

“Were you able to gather any information from Miss Christenson?”  Finch cut in. 

“Only that she misses the stars.”  Shaw murmured as she sat down on the couch, dissembling her gun without even looking.  She grabbed one of the doilies from the coffee table and used it to scrub out the barrel.

“What?” 

“Nothing.  Never mind.”  Shaw said quickly.

“I see.  Well, if you need anything…”  Finch started.

“Unless you can get here within the next fifteen minutes with a food truck from China town…we’re fine.  Apparently your Machine made sure ‘we have everything we need’, Finch.”  Shaw grumbled, even lifting her voice a little to mimic Root for that last part.

“You mean Root isn’t feeding you?”  John asked, surprised. 

It hadn’t escaped his notice…the little snacks Root dropped by for Shaw every now and again whenever she was in town, even if she didn’t even stay to say hello to the rest of the team…probably because the rest of the team still distrusted her.  She had kidnapped Finch after all…even if that was a long time ago.  John hadn’t forgotten.

“Root doesn’t even feed herself.”  Shaw snapped as she started cleaning her bullets one at a time.  “You’d think a super omniscient robot would take better care of its analogue interface.”  Shaw muttered, almost forgetting the others were on the line until she heard Finch cough.

“If you are truly concerned for Miss Groves’s health, perhaps you should speak to her directly about…” 

“Goodnight, Finch.” Shaw snapped off her comm and focused on her gun, preparing for the inevitable--when she would be forced to face the harsh realities of life in the suburbs by daylight.


	10. Chapter 10

8:03 a.m.

Root stirred when she heard the Machine edging against her consciousness—trying to be as subtle as She could. 

Root blinked, her brain still trying to understand where she was…and why the Machine sounded so…hesitant.  Root blinked, trying to understand why her laptop wasn’t open on the nightstand so she could communicate directly with the Machine on her end.  She sat up to reach for the nightstand drawer to look for her devices, but froze when she saw Daniella sleeping beside her and it all came back.  The memories flooded through her and Root sighed as she leaned down to kiss her daughter’s forehead, holding her hair back so it wouldn’t tickle Daniella’s face. 

Root sat back and watched her daughter breathing for a moment before she remembered why she’d woken in the first place. 

 Root stood and went to the window, pulling the gun she’d stored under the pillow out to slip into her waistband.  She took a deep breath and gently moved the curtains a little to look out at the street.  Root’s eyes scanned every telephone pole and every roof, until she finally saw a camera perched above the garage door across the street.  Root stared hard at the device for a moment, trying to make out the color of the light at its side…when she was pretty sure she could see red, she nodded ever so slightly. 

Immediately, the tones in her ear became more regular and took on a slightly more substantial volume.  

Root closed her eyes, listening intently. 

It was almost instinctive now, deciphering the code the Machine used to communicate.  Root nodded to herself and turned away from the window, stretching. 

She had discarded her jacket during the night, tossing it onto the rocking chair next to the bookshelf and now she was a little cold.  Root realized the house wasn’t heated yet.  That was probably Shaw’s fault. 

Root shivered and reached back out of habit to feel the reassuring grip of her gun…it startled her at first to remember that she only had one just now.  Her other piece she’d left under the passenger seat of the car parked outside. 

Root glanced at Daniella again, smiling fondly as she took up the glass of water and slipped out of the room.

Root took the stairs two at a time and hurried down the hall to refill the glass of water in the kitchen.  The sun was only just starting to rise outside, but hardly any of the natural light came in because Shaw had drawn all the curtains.  Honestly, Root had never met someone who despised the sun as much as Sameen Shaw. 

Root rolled her eyes and slid the curtains aside from the breakfast nook, instantly feeling warmth seep into her skin from light on all sides. 

The Machine buzzed in her ear again and Root turned to head back down the hall.  She liked this open concept main floor.  She had direct sightlines to all the important nooks and crannies…and could keep an eye on Shaw from the kitchen.  Root noticed that family pictures from the former owners were still hanging on the walls, and she clucked her tongue in disapproval. 

Those would have to go. 

Root stopped just inside the door, waiting patiently as the Machine counted it down for her. 

Root checked that her gun was still within reach one more time.  She could hear Shaw snoring and she grinned a little to herself.  That was a sound she hadn’t heard in awhile. 

Root yanked the door open before the approaching strangers had a chance to knock or ring the doorbell and possibly wake Daniella…or worse, the sleeping dragon that was Sameen Shaw.  The strangers looked flustered, both by the suddenness of it and by the brightness of Root’s smile. 

“Good morning.”  Root said cheerily as she stepped out on the stoop and pulled the door closed behind her. 

She went right to the potted wisteria and bent to water it as if this were what she had been planning to do all along.  Root straightened and smiled at the two strangers who had backed up to keep from crowding her in the doorway and now stood at a more comfortable distance. 

The man and woman recovered quickly and returned Root’s smile.

“Good morning, we’re sorry to come over so early, but we wanted to be the first to welcome you to the neighborhood.”  The woman said with an obvious twang to her rather tinny voice. 

Root nodded, and noted the easy way the woman spoke and the protective way the man stood a little closer than was necessary, his slightly more disheveled appearance and the bags under his eyes…if she had to guess, Root would say that the woman was the breadwinner of the family, controlled the family money, the social butterfly, and the catch.  That the man feared he wasn’t good enough and would lose her soon…which, was quite a possibility, seeing as the woman was gorgeous…and the man only so-so, in Root’s humble opinion.

“That is so sweet of you.”  Root said with sickly sweetness. 

She was giving the neighbors her feigned attention but she was also eyeing the street…checking for unmarked vehicles or obvious agents trying to appear casual.  Root could feel the cold reassurance of her gun against the small of her back, but she still felt uneasy.  The street seemed too quiet.  The only disturbance was the small gathering happening on her lawn.  “We only just got in last night, didn’t want too much of a hassle.”

“Yes, we didn’t see a moving truck, but this morning Dave saw the Sold sign and the new car and I just told him we had to come introduce ourselves.”  The woman said with delight.  Root nodded, holding the empty glass with both hands. 

“It was a hasty decision, but we fell in love with the big kitchen…and the neighborhood.”  Root supplied. 

The longer she stood out exchanging pleasantries like this, the more she feared any second Shaw would wake up and come barreling out the door looking for her and she would probably ruin everything with her shoot first ask questions later attitude…it was a quality Root usually found sexy more than anything, but not now…not for this mission…not when Daniella’s safety was at risk.

“Yes the neighborhood is just grand, full of wonderful people.  We have a healthy social group.  We live right over there, and the Petersons live next to us.  And the Beirigg’s live right there, next to you, and a few doors down are the Smiths.  We all get together all the time, and we’re so happy to have this old place full again.  We were sorry to see the Hummels go, but they were the grey hairs of the street.  Friendly, but not much fun.  All their kids had grown and moved on.  And this is a young part of the area, full of young families.  Great place for raising kids.”  The woman gabbed. 

Root smiled and tried not to grimace as the woman laughed again.  The stranger was beautiful, but her laugh was not one Root thought she could listen to often.  Maybe in small doses, but otherwise…it made Root want to shoot her. 

“That’s a relief to hear.  My wife and I really enjoyed the city life, but we were thinking it was time to settle down someplace a little more…protected.  For our little girl.”  Root said with a forced smile. 

She knew the best way to keep Daniella safe was to play the part of happy, suburban family for now…but she knew Shaw would not be happy about it.  Especially since Root hadn’t consulted her about it yet.  Not that she ever would in a situation like this…it was just too good to pass up, the chance to script Shaw however she wanted.  Harold never seemed to get her covers right, but Root was sure she could do better for Shaw…for all three of them. 

“Oh!  You have a daughter?”  The woman practically squealed with delight. 

Root nodded. 

“Yes, she’s four.  Adopted from France.”  Root said. 

The easiest cover to keep was one that was closest to the truth.  Daniella spoke more French than Finnish, and as painful as it was…Root knew they would have to erase that part of her past to keep her safe for now.  Any mention of Finland could raise suspicions that could lead to connections to the dead Finnish tourists.  That was something they simply couldn’t afford.

“Oh, that is just too cute.  Don’t you think so, Dave?”  The woman exclaimed.  “This is my husband, Dave, by the way.  And I’m Katrina.  Everybody calls me Kat.”  The woman, Kat, said. 

Root smiled and would have offered her hand, but she realized for the first time that Kat was holding a giant basket full of what looked like giant home-made muffins. 

“My name is Samantha, but you can call me Sam…just not around my wife.  She thinks that nickname is hers, but I think her name is just too pretty to shorten at all.”  Root was rewarded for this embellishment by a loud laugh from her two neighbors. 

Root tried not to cringe. 

“Oh, and what is her name?”  Kat asked when she had caught her breath.

“Sameen.”  Root said, unable to stop herself from smiling when she said it. 

“Sam and Sameen, oh that is just precious.”  Kat exclaimed. 

Root simply nodded. 

“Well, Sam.  We are so excited to have you here.  We’ll have to have a proper get together once you and your family are better settled, but we brought this over as a welcome.”  Kat said, handing over the basket. 

Root took it with a little difficulty as she tried to find a way to hold onto the empty glass and the basket.  She and Kat laughed over it for a moment, which let Root know she was quickly rising in the woman’s esteem.  Root offered humble thanks, stepping back up to the stoop to put a little distance between her and the neighbors.

“Sameen will love these…thank you so much.”  Root said sweetly, already deciding she would have to hide a few if her daughter was going to have any chance at a decent breakfast. 

“Of course, of course.”  Kat was saying.

“You let us know if you need anything.”  Dave finally got a word in edgewise. 

Root gave him a small smile and nodded.

“I will, thank you again.”  Root said, reaching behind her to find the doorknob. 

"l be hearing from us, Sam.  The neighborhood will want to welcome you properly.  I hope you like block parties!”  Kat called from the sidewalk. 

Root chuckled.

“Look forward to it, Kat.” 

Root stood and waved until the couple disappeared around the hedge and then she turned and stepped back into the quiet of the house, closing the door as quickly as possible.  Root leaned back against the door, holding her breath as she listened to the house.  She could still hear Shaw snoring, and the ticking of the many clocks, the thrum of the heater…nothing out of the ordinary.  Root sighed and padded down the hall, dropping the glass off in the sink and setting the basket of muffins down on the island. 

Root remembered briefly the conversation she’d had with Shaw in the kitchen…that Shaw still deserved to know things, even if she was too stubborn to ask about Daniella directly, that she was angry with Root…how close their bodies had been for the briefest of moments. 

Root sighed. 

She couldn’t think about that.  She had never before let her infatuation with Shaw interfere with her missions, and she wasn’t about to start now…but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun.  Root grabbed a muffin from the top of the heap and started down the hallway again.  Before starting up the stairs, she tossed the muffin over the back of the couch, smiling when Shaw reacted as if a hot grenade had landed in her lap.  The Marine had her gun cocked and loaded as she shot straight up in the air, spinning wildly.

“Root, what the hell—“

“Breakfast.”  Root called over her shoulder as she scampered up the stairs. 

She could hear Shaw cursing in Farsi, but she ignored it and slipped into Daniella’s room, her mischievous smile melting almost instantly into something much more tender.

“Daniella…Ella bird…it’s time to get up.”  Root called as she crossed to the window and drew back the curtains to let in the golden light. 

She heard Daniella move under the covers, but her daughter remained asleep.  Root pulled her gun from her waistband and set it on top of the dresser before climbing up onto the bed beside her daughter again.  Root nestled her chin down into the crook of Daniella’s neck and blew gently across the girl’s face. 

“Did you have good dreams?”  Root asked softly. 

Ella turned toward Root’s warmth and nodded, humming a response. 

"What did you dream, Ella bird?”  Root asked as she tucked a few curls back behind Daniella’s ears. 

Her daughter yawned and curled in even closer, but she kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“That you stayed with me forever.”  Daniella said. 

Root smiled and wrapped her arms around her little girl. 

“That was a good dream, then.”  Root sighed as she closed her own eyes and imagined for a moment that nothing else in the world mattered, but the child in her arms and the calm that filled her heart when she held her close.  Root could feel herself starting to doze off and she roused herself. 

“Come on, Daniella.  We have to get to the muffins before Sameen eats them all.”  Root said with a yawn as she rolled off the bed and took up the child.  She really wasn’t very heavy at all. 

Daniella perked up slightly, as she tried to brush her matted curls out of her face to peer at Root with wide brown eyes.

"Muffins?”  She asked. 

Root nodded, stopping by the dresser to slip her gun into her waistband once again. 

“Yep.  Our nice neighbors brought them by this morning.”  Root explained as she started down the stairs.  “There were blueberry and some chocolate chip…and I thought I saw a banana nut in there too…”  Root trailed off as she brought Daniella into the kitchen and saw Shaw sitting at the half wall on one of the stools, her gun sitting next to four empty muffin wrappings. 

Root’s eyes narrowed. 

Shaw was already half-way through her fifth muffin. 

“When I said ‘breakfast’, I meant for _all_ of us.”  Root hissed through gritted teeth as she set Daniella down in the breakfast nook and turned to snatch the basket out of Shaw’s reach.  It was half empty now. 

“Well maybe you should have gotten something a little more filling than _muffins_.”  Shaw snapped, obviously grumpy.

“If you don’t like them, why did you eat so many?”  Root demanded as she carefully pulled down the tinfoil wrapping for Daniella and set the muffin down on a plate in front of her. 

“It’s _all_ we have!”  Shaw said as if it were the end of the world.

"Well, we’ll go shopping later just for you.”  Root said as she took up Shaw’s trash and swept the crumbs into her hand before she went to dispose of it. 

“And keep this…”  Root hissed in a fiercer but quieter whisper as she tapped Shaw’s gun with one finger.  “Out of reach of children.” 

She glared at Shaw while the Marine pulled her weapon off the table and rolled her eyes.

“And who makes only twelve muffins?  Haven’t you ever heard of a Baker’s Dozen?  It’s standard baking procedure, Marguerite.”  Shaw sniffed as she watched Root looking for the trash can, narrowing her eyes as she saw the grip of Root’s favorite gun sticking up from her waistband.  Such a hypocrite, Marguerite…or Root…or both?  _Both._   Shaw decided.  She was starting to suspect the Marguerite/Root dichotomy was going to drive her crazy before the malnourishment did.  It seemed outwardly simple, Root when talking to Harold, Marguerite around the little girl…but Root had always been Root to Shaw.  Never Miss Groves, like she was to Harold.  Or Caroline Turing the way John still sometimes thought of her.  Even the illusion of Veronica Sinclair hadn’t stuck.  Root would always be Root, which made Shaw’s tongue feel heavy and strange when she used a different name to address her. 

Shaw hoped she wouldn’t have to get used to it.

“ _I_ didn’t make them.  One of our lovely neighbors named Kat did.”  Root said over her shoulder as she checked under the sink. 

Shaw froze. 

She had slipped from her stool and snuck around the half-wall into the kitchen, sidling up to the breakfast nook where the child was munching away on a chocolate chip muffin.  The basket was sitting next to her.  The child had looked up at Shaw’s approach and Shaw had thought maybe the child would fight her for the muffins, or tattle on her, but instead, Daniella had reached into the basket and held out a blueberry muffin like a peace offering.  Shaw had just bitten into it when Root had mentioned where the muffins came from. 

Shaw’s entire focus shifted. 

“There were… _neighbors_ in the house?”  Shaw asked icily. 

“No, Sameen.  Give me some credit…I kept them outside.”  Root said as she straightened after successfully disposing of the muffin tins in the trashcan. 

“You…went…outside.”  Shaw repeated. 

Root sighed and glanced down at Daniella who had chocolate smeared at the edges of her mouth. 

Root took up another muffin and unwrapped it. 

“Ella, could you finish this in the den please?  I have to talk to Sameen for a minute.”  Root said as gently as she could. 

Daniella’s brown eyes darted to Shaw and then back to Root. 

“What about you, Mommy?”  The child asked. 

Root smiled and took up Daniella’s plate while the child slipped down from the window seat.  Root set the muffin in the center and then handed the plate to her daughter, giving her a slight nudge toward the living room.

“I’ll have one later.  Hold onto it with both hands.” 

Root watched Daniella take one step at a time toward the coffee table and only shifted her eyes to Shaw when the Persian coughed to get her attention.  Shaw waited for the child to move out of hearing before attacking.

“Root, did you forget what we talked about last night?”  Shaw demanded. 

“The only way to keep Daniella safe is to blend in, Shaw.  The Machine sent us here because it’s away from the city and all those men who wanted to hurt her.  We can’t draw attention to ourselves; we have to blend in…which means, acting like a normal, well-adjusted member of society.”  Root explained in a low tone that wouldn’t carry beyond the kitchen. 

Shaw continued to scowl.

“Or we could just hole up in here for a few days.  This place has a decent security system.  All we need is rations, and a bit more firepower and we could…” 

“Family.  Politics.  Overcooked meat.  Monogamy.  The whole nine yards, Sameen.  This neighborhood is full of young families.  If they like us, they’ll provide more than the cover we need if anyone were to come snooping.”  Root cut in. 

Shaw’s face darkened.

“ _Monogamy_?”  Shaw hissed.  “You told them we were married?!” 

Root only smiled at Shaw’s expression. 

“Of course I did, Sweetie.  How else was I supposed to explain your presence?”  Root asked innocently. 

Shaw’s scowl turned into a deep frown. 

“My presence?”  Shaw queried. 

“You said it yourself…I do the pretend parenting thing very well.  Nobody here would think twice if they saw me with Daniella.  But you…we can’t tell them you’re a body guard.  That would raise too many questions.  And you couldn’t be a relative.  You aren’t affectionate enough….”

“Aren’t spouses supposed to be affectionate too?  How is that cover any better?”  Shaw asked, rubbing her temples, trying to let the fact that Root had somehow heard her entire conversation with Harold and Reese sink in. 

Root grinned a little broader. 

“It would certainly help.”  Root said in a light tone as she brushed some crumbs from the front of Shaw’s dark hoodie. 

“Root.” 

Shaw groaned and slumped down into the window seat, deciding it was way too early for this.  She still had the muffin in her hand, but she set it down.  She'd lost her appetite. 

“Shaw…I know this is more than you bargained for.  But I promise it won’t be for very long…just until Harold figures out who’s behind this.”  Root fidgeted with the chipping nail polish on her fingers, waiting for Shaw to say something. 

“Sameen…please.  I…I can’t protect Daniella by myself.  It’s…it’s too personal.  I’ve already made so many mistakes, and we wouldn’t have gotten this far without you—“  Root started, hesitantly. 

She knew Shaw would never just give up half-way through a mission…but she also knew there were limits to how far she could push Shaw. 

“What exactly did you tell Mrs. Strictly-a-Dozen Muffins?”  Shaw asked bitterly as she scowled at the last few muffins left in the basket. 

Root let out the breath she’d been holding. 

"We left the city to find someplace quieter…”

 "Close enough to the truth to be believable.”  Shaw said as she finally bit into the muffin Daniella had gifted her. 

Root allowed a tentative grin.

“We liked the kitchen and the neighborhood.”  Root said. 

“I’d like the kitchen more if it actually had food in it.”  Shaw grumbled as she crumpled up the muffin wrapping in her left hand. 

“We adopted our daughter from France.” 

Shaw scowled and dug out another muffin.

"And we’re to that…okay, what’s the story?  We have to have a solid cover if this is going to work.”  Shaw said with forced calm as she bit into the top of her muffin, already imagining all the awful stories Root had shared with the neighbors…the courtship, the marriage, the happy family…it would be so sickly romantic and dripping with sappy perfection, it would probably make Shaw sick for weeks. 

“Well, I told them your name is Sameen and mine is Samantha.”  Root said. 

Root heard Shaw suck in a sharp breath, but then nothing. 

Shaw decided Samantha would be easier to handle than ‘Marguerite’.  Shaw waited and then looked up quizzically at Root.

“And what else?”  Shaw demanded. 

Root shrugged.

“I didn’t tell them anything else.” 

“You didn’t tell them how we met or where we were married or any stupid pet names or anything like that?”  Shaw was actually surprised. 

Root smiled. 

“I thought I’d leave all that to you, Sweetie…though I did tell them they could call me Sam when you’re not around.”  Shaw groaned and rolled her eyes.   

“Root…” 

“It wasn’t exactly an interrogation, Shaw.  We exchanged introductions, they gave us a welcome basket, that was it…oh, except for the party.”  Root remembered.  

“What party?”  Shaw asked through gritted teeth.    

“A ‘welcome-to-the-neighborhood’ party…I told Kat you’d love it.”  Root said, turning away from Shaw as Daniella came back into the kitchen, coming one step at a time so as not to tip the plate she held in both hands.

“Is the minute over, mommy?  I finished my muffin.”  Daniella said, standing ramrod straight like a soldier.

“I can see that, half of it’s on your face.”  Shaw droned. 

Root ignored her and knelt down to Daniella’s level.

“You did so good, Ella bird.  I’ll take that.”  Root said cheerily as she took the plate from Daniella and took it to the sink, brushing the crumbs away before starting the water. 

Shaw glanced at the girl who stood leaning against the island, her hair a mess of auburn curls that fell just to her shoulders and somehow managed to look full and vibrant even after a fitful night of sleep.  The child turned her brown eyes on Shaw, her expression curious.  She squinted at Shaw as if trying to read her.  Shaw glanced away.

Root rinsed the small plate as quickly as she could, well aware that neither Shaw nor Daniella was talking, which meant the two were probably glaring at each other.  Root set the plate in the dishdrainer and wiped her hands on the tea towel that was a color she disliked…it didn’t match any of the colors in the kitchen.  Root clapped her hands together and turned to Daniella with a smile.

“Alrighty then, let’s get you cleaned up and dressed, little bird.” 

Daniella held her arms over her head and Root lifted her up to her hip in compliance with the nonverbal request.   

“Wait just a second…when exactly is this party?”  Shaw demanded. 

“I’m not sure.”  Root said with a shrug. 

She started to head down the hall, but she was held back. 

Root glanced down, surprised to see that Shaw had latched onto her arm, her expression hard and serious. 

“Oh, no you don’t.  Family meeting.  Right now.”  Shaw said in a low, commanding voice. 

Root blinked, surprised…and a little anxious about what Shaw would do next.


	11. Chapter 11

Shaw stood from the window seat and plucked the child from Root’s arms quickly enough that Root couldn’t protest.  It was the first time Shaw had actually…touched the kid.  Shaw wasn’t used to small children, but Daniella seemed to do all the work herself, adjusting so she sat squarely at Shaw’s hip, offering no complaint of any kind.  Shaw could see the shock on Root’s face, and she inwardly smiled in triumph, relishing that expression that she so rarely got to see. 

“You.”  Shaw snapped, getting Root’s attention again. 

Shaw snagged one of the counter stools with her foot and dragged it out a ways. 

“Sit down and eat something.”  Shaw commanded. 

She reached toward the muffin basket with the free hand that wasn’t currently keeping the child…Daniella…secure.  Shaw picked up one of the muffins…the banana nut that neither she nor Daniella had touched, and set it down in front of Root. 

“No one is leaving this house, this _room,_ until we know who we’re supposed to be and how we supposedly got here.  We don’t all have the luxury of a Machine feeding us information the moment we need it.”  Shaw said pointedly in Root’s direction.  “So we are only leaving here if we have a solid story to sell, got it?” 

Shaw looked at the child and Daniella nodded solemnly. 

Shaw glared at Root, who was giving her one of those beaming smiles with a soft look in her eyes. 

“Have I ever told you I find it extremely attractive when you take charge?”  Root practically purred. 

Root _had_ told her that before…a few times actually.  Usually in the middle of some very adult activities. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and turned away, taking the child to the sink, wondering if it would make any difference to apologize to the child for Root’s behavior if she was already fairly certain the child didn’t understand half of what Root was saying.  Shaw hoped the child couldn’t read into all the subtext just yet.  But if she really was Root’s daughter…you never know. 

“You…”  Shaw said to the child as she set her down on the counter next to the sink and turned on the water.  “Are filthy.  Hold still.” 

Shaw wet the corner of the tea towel and used it to wipe away the chocolate smeared around the child’s mouth. 

“So…we met at school?”  Shaw started as she wiped the child’s mouth clean.  She wasn’t being as gentle as Root would be, but she tried to be less…‘aggressive’ as she moved from one chocolate smear to the next. 

 “Are you asking or telling?”  Root called. 

Shaw lifted her eyes for a moment.

“Eat the rest of your muffin, _Samantha_ , and maybe you can contribute.”  Shaw snapped. 

She saw Root roll her eyes and turn the muffin upside down to start picking on the bottom of the muffin. 

“So, if we met at school…what were you studying?”  Root asked thoughtfully as she nibbled on a few of the crumbs she’d taken from her muffin. 

"I studied medicine.  You were a philosophy major.”

 “Philosophy?”  Root sounded incredulous. 

Shaw rolled her eyes.  The child was looking up at the light fixture in the kitchen.  Shaw sighed when she saw there was even more chocolate under the child’s chin. 

“Yes, because you won’t be expected to have a career to talk about if you studied philosophy, which means we can tell them you’re a stay at home mom working on a novel or something.”  Shaw said slowly. 

She could almost feel Root thinking from across the room.

“That…actually makes sense.”  Root conceded. 

Shaw smirked and glanced up at the startling brown eyes of the child who was sitting quietly with her hands folded in her lap like a good patient. 

“Your mother doesn’t like it when I’m right.”  Shaw whispered to the girl. 

Daniella grinned and ducked her head to keep from giggling. 

“But philosophy majors and med school delinquents hardly ever cross paths, Sameen.  _How_ did we meet?”  Root called. 

Shaw shrugged, more focused on ringing out the towel as she rinsed it under the faucet again.

“Friend of a friend.”  Shaw suggested. 

She heard Root scoff. 

“Really, Sameen?  That’s how you want our love story to begin?”  Root asked with a smile that glittered. 

Shaw almost growled, but she felt the child’s wide brown eyes on her still, so she swallowed it and focused on hanging the towel over the back of the cabinet door before taking the child up again and going to sit across the counter from Root.  Shaw let the girl clamber up onto the countertop next to her, keeping an eye on her in case she wandered too close to the edge. 

She didn’t. 

Daniella crawled toward Root and climbed down into her lap. 

Shaw didn’t mind.  She had an irrevocable dislike of kids…except Gen, but Gen hardly qualified as a ‘kid’.  She was something else. 

“It’s close enough to the truth to be plausible.  My friend had a contact that I was going to meet, but I got stuck with you instead, if you remember.”  Shaw said coldly. 

Root’s eyes gleamed.

“Veronica Sinclair…I will forever be in her debt for bringing us together…even if she wasn’t very helpful.”  Root said thoughtfully. 

Shaw rolled her eyes.  She couldn’t even remember what the real Veronica Sinclair had looked like…she could however, remember every detail of her first encounter with the perky psycho ‘pretending’ to be Veronica Sinclair.

“Mommy, finish your muffin.” 

Shaw watched with a smirk as Daniella lifted a fist full of muffin towards Root’s mouth, interrupting her.  Shaw thought maybe she and Daniella finally had some common ground, in taking care of Root. 

Root smiled and let her daughter feed her. 

“I’m only saying that it may make more sense if you let on that you were working in a coffee shop to help pay for med school or something, and I came in all the time while I worked on my thesis…”  Root suggested loftily once she had swallowed. 

Shaw clenched her jaw. 

“I would _never_ work as a barista in some coffee shop.”  Shaw growled. 

Root brought her elbow up to the table and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, gazing at Shaw curiously. 

“How did you pay for med school, then?” 

“I didn’t; I’m still in debt.” 

“I meant in real life, Sameen.”  Root said with a light laugh. 

Shaw frowned. 

“In real life, I never finished med school.  You know that.”  Shaw said evenly.

“And I never went to college in real life; you didn’t answer my question.”  Root pointed out. 

Shaw blinked. 

She had never really thought about Root before…well, before she’d become Root.  Shaw glanced down at the child who was sweeping up the muffin crumbs into a neat pile.  Shaw supposed maybe _that_ was why she had never really thought about Root as a young girl or as a student…it left too much to the imagination, too much that couldn’t possibly fit, and yet here they were…with Root’s real life daughter sitting right across from Shaw. 

“I saved through high school, worked in the restaurant my mother’s family owned for awhile.  But that was boring so I volunteered at the local hospital as often as I could.  When I went to college, I ah…worked in the library.”  Shaw didn’t mumble. 

But she did glance away as she finished her sentence. 

“The _library_?”  Root sounded shocked.  So shocked, Daniella used the opportunity to stuff some more of the banana nut muffin into her mother’s open mouth.

“It was part of my work-study.”  Shaw said more than a little defensively.  “But if it makes you feel better, I also joined an underground fight club.” 

“Is that last part true?”  Root asked hesitantly. 

Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Of course not.  I didn’t have a lot of free time when I started my internship, shadowing a surgeon at Mount Sinai.”  Shaw explained.  Root was still staring.  Shaw raised an eyebrow.  “Sorry if that puts a damper on your ‘poor barista meets caffeine addicted erudite’ college fantasy.” 

“No, this is better.  Libraries are good.”  Root bit her lip and then looked down. 

Shaw frowned.  She remembered Detective Carter telling her once that a friend of Root’s had disappeared from a library when they were kids...she couldn’t remember the girl’s name, or if Carter had told her if the girl had ever been found.  Carter had been trying once again to warn Shaw about the perky psycho, but Shaw hadn’t really been listening.  Not because she didn’t appreciate Carter’s advice or because she had a soft spot for Root—which she most certainly _did not_ —but because she simply didn’t care. 

Now she wished she had listened a little more closely.

“Okay then.  We met in the library.  You wouldn’t stop bugging me.  You moved in when I went to med school and kept me fed and did my laundry.  Then I decided I should probably keep you around…”

“You make it sound so romantic.”  Root said dryly as she ran her fingers through Daniella’s hair. 

Shaw realized Daniella was watching her again with those open, innocent eyes that seemed to beg for the world’s secrets. 

“How would you tell it then?”  Shaw demanded. 

Root sighed and glanced at Shaw.

“Most people mention falling in love when talking about the relationship leading up to a marriage.”  Root pointed out. 

Shaw clenched her jaw.

“We’re not married.” 

“I took your last name.”  Root said sweetly. 

Shaw blinked.

“Samantha Shaw?  You know that just sounds—“

“Any last name.  You pick.”  Root said, leaning forward. 

Shaw glared at her as she racked her brain.  This was Root’s way of giving her some control, of letting her have a say in something she hadn’t signed up for. 

“ _Any_ last name…”  Shaw asked wistfully with a calculated smile.  Root’s eyes widened. 

“So help me, Sameen, if you say ‘Bond’, I will—“

“Arundel.”  Shaw said simply, watching Root’s face scrunch up and then smooth over. 

“Arundel?”  Root sounded as if she were testing the word for some kind of trick. 

Daniella’s head shot up. 

“Arondel?”  The child asked, looking up at her mother. 

Root frowned.

“Little sparrow.”  Root said down to the little girl who clapped her hands and started reciting the French word over and over again like a new song. 

Root glanced at Shaw.

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”  She said lowly. 

Shaw smirked.

“I don’t.  But I learned a few words when you studied abroad there.”  She said. 

Root blinked. 

“Are we talking about our college fantasy again?”  She asked. 

Shaw rolled her eyes.  For someone who had to live constantly between two worlds, what with the Machine in her ear and all…Root seemed to have a hard time keeping up. 

“You said it needed to be more romantic…I learned a few French words because I missed you, _Samantha_.”  Shaw said thickly. 

“And because I fell in love with the French culture, we adopted a French child.”  Root said slowly, glancing down at Daniella who seemed completely oblivious to the conversation happening about her.  Shaw nodded. 

“How long have we been married?”  Root asked softly. 

Shaw thought for a moment. 

“Six years.  We focused on my medical career for a long time, so we adopted her for you.”  Shaw decided. 

Root looked up.

“You didn’t want her?”  Root asked. 

Shaw didn’t break eye contact.

“No.” 

Root nodded curtly and glanced away.  “Is our marriage in trouble?” 

Shaw rolled her eyes and huffed through her nose.  “According to you we’re a ‘happy family’.” 

Root nodded again and slowly pushed her stool away, lifting Daniella up to her hip.  She retrieved her trash and crumbs and went into the kitchen to throw them away.

“I’m assuming, then, that I proposed to you.”  Root called over her shoulder.  She had set Daniella down on the countertop and was washing her hands. 

Shaw frowned.

“Why would you assume that?”  She demanded. 

She waited for Root to explain, but for a long moment she could only hear the water. 

“Because, from what you’ve said, I am the more committed half of this relationship.  It sounds like I put my life on hold while you finished med school and your residency.  We’ve been married six years, and you only just got around to considering what _I_ want, so, it is safe to assume that I knew what I wanted and thought I knew what you wanted before you did.  I probably proposed to you before you were ready.  You wanted to wait until you’d finished paying off your loans, but I couldn’t wait.  I loved you too much.  So I proposed and we fought about it until the day of, and then you realized you wanted me to, and it worked out fine.”  Root said as she dried her hands on the tea towel. 

“That’s not how it happened.”  Shaw insisted. 

Root sighed and shut off the water.  She breathed for a moment, glancing at her daughter who gave her the brightest of smiles as she reached out as far as she could, wanting to be held again.  Root picked Daniella up and shifted her to the left side as she turned to look warily at Shaw. 

“So then how did it happen, Sameen?”  Root asked.

“I took you to a place that meant something to just the two of us.  Someplace special.  I cut out a perfectly proportioned heart in the middle of the pages of a copy of your favorite book and gave it to you.  The ring was inside.” 

Root was giving Shaw a strange look.

“What?”  Shaw asked.  She could be romantic too, dammit. 

Root stared for a moment longer before rousing herself.  She shifted her own weight.

“Did you come up with that on your own?”  Root asked slowly. 

Shaw scowled.

“What do you—”

“That’s how Harold proposed to Grace.  He used ‘Sense and Sensibility’.” Root explained.

Shaw blinked, about to ask how Root knew that, but then she remembered the Machine…and its uncanny ability to hold onto obscure details about the lives of its favorite agents. 

“Is that a problem?”  Shaw asked, suddenly feeling a little unsure.  “I just thought, since we met in the library, it would…” 

“No, that’s fine.”  Root said, looking away again. 

Shaw waited for Root to ask for more unimportant details about their fake married life—like where they went on honeymoon, who opened the door for who when they went out, who was better in the kitchen, how often they had sex, blah, blah, blah…but when Root looked back at Shaw, her brown eyes were guarded…it was a drastic change.  Root was usually so open—her eyes were usually so bright it hurt to look into them too long, like they were their own little suns the color of warm melted chocolate.  But now, she looked like someone Shaw almost didn’t recognize. 

“If that’s all…I should probably get Daniella dressed before we go out for groceries.”  Root said. 

Shaw frowned.  She had the urge to ask Root if she was alright, but that would imply that she cared.  And she didn’t. 

Caring for Root was not part of the mission. 

The mission was to keep the little girl safe.  Which was why they had to have a solid cover while they hid out here in the suburbs surrounded by potential threats to their secret on all fronts. 

“Sameen?”  Root prodded. 

Shaw blinked.

“Yeah, sure…go ahead.”  Shaw said dismissively. 

Root nodded and started down the hallway. 

Shaw swiveled on her stool so she could follow Root’s progress with her eyes.

“Root, wait.”  Shaw said against her will. 

Root froze on the second step.  She glanced over the banister at Shaw, waiting. 

“What…what is your favorite book?”  Shaw wanted to kick herself. 

The silence stretched for several minutes.    

"I am a fan of Jane Austen myself.”  Root said quietly. 

Shaw wondered if that had applied before or after Root had met Harold’s Machine and learned about the man’s past.  The Machine seemed to have a strange effect on Root sometimes, leaving imprints of itself on her.  Like how the most important person to the Machine was Harold, and so Root seemed to have fixated on him as well, trying to look out for him as best she could.  Shaw thought it was a little unsettling how Root doggedly kept inserting herself into Harold’s life when the man clearly feared and avoided her.  But then again, Shaw had never quite understood the whole Machine-Harold-Machine-Root thing that was going on. 

Shaw generally just tried not to think too much about the Machine…but that was nearly impossible to do with Root around.  Shaw thought she liked the Machine better when she didn’t know what it was—back when she had thought of it as some unknown entity called Research that worked in the shadows much like she had.  But now she couldn’t do that.  Now she had to put up with the Machine going on the fritz sometimes, or going completely silent…and she had to put up with its ‘complicated’ relationship with Root.  How it used her and seemed to have no concept of how much of a toll it’s missions took on Root…not that Shaw cared. 

She simply noticed these things. 

 “So… _Sense and Sensibility_?”  Shaw asked, realizing the silence had started to stretch again. 

“No.  _Pride and Prejudice_.”  Root said. 

Shaw waited for more, but Root was starting up the steps again.  Root paused at the top of the stairs and set Daniella down, watching her daughter run ahead to her bedroom, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world. 

“The original draft was entitled ‘ _First Impressions_ ’.”  Root said so softly it was almost as if she were speaking to herself.  “Because at first, Elizabeth Bennet despises Mr. Darcy, and doesn’t come to love him until she sets aside her dislike and takes the time to learn about his past, who he is…”

“Right.”  Shaw interrupted.  “Can we just tell them we lost our copy in the move?”  Shaw asked.  

Root closed her eyes slowly and turned away.  Shaw couldn’t see her expression, but she guessed it was probably exasperated.

“Sure, Sameen.  We can do whatever you want.” 


	12. Chapter 12

Harold Finch limped after Bear in the park, scrunching up his nose against the irritating scent of pollen.  He fought a violent sneeze and adjusted his glasses as he followed the usual path through the tall hedges.  Spring time was a joyous occasion, of course, but it was always heralded with allergies for Harold.  Harold slipped Bear’s leash in his pocket and looked up when he realized with surprise that his feisty Dutch Malinois hadn’t run ahead to the green fields across the path, but was sitting very calmly at the side of a sinister looking figure sitting on a park bench. 

Harold sighed and limped a little faster toward the man with two take out coffee cups balancing on his knees. 

“Goed gedaan, Bear.”  Finch said as he patted the animal’s head.  He sat down a little stiffly beside Mr. Reese and accepted the cup that didn’t have coffee, but Sencha Tea. 

“Morning, Harold.”  Reese said, his blue eyes focused on the park that was still only just waking up. There were only a few early morning joggers and a one or two commuters who cut through the park on their way to the bus stop. 

“Mr. Reese.”  Harold said gravely as he took a sip of his tea.  Bear cocked his head to one side and gave a slight whine. 

“No, I’m sorry Bear.  She isn’t coming today.”  Harold explained as if the dog could possibly understand him.  The dog snorted and dropped down to his belly, resting his head on his paws as he watched happier dogs playing with their owners. 

Bear let out a melancholy sniff and Mr. Reese eyed him with a slight frown. 

“Speaking of Shaw…have you heard from her recently?”  John asked.

“I’m afraid not.  I had hoped to hear from her first thing this morning, but I suppose…”  Harold froze as the comm in his ear buzzed. 

Harold’s tea bobbled as he reached up excitedly and swatted on his comm link.

“Miss Shaw?”  Harold asked, his blue eyes darting back and forth as he waited for a response. 

Bear shot to his feet, his mouth open and his face alert. 

“Yeah, I’m here, Harold.”  Shaw’s voice came over the line. 

Harold leaned back, giving John a smile. 

“Oh good, John and I were worried about you.”  Harold explained as he set his tea down on the armrest of the bench. 

He could hear his associate scoff over the line.

“Worried?  Worried why?”  Shaw demanded. 

“Harold just meant to ask if you’ve had anything to eat yet.”  John intervened, swiping at his own comm to get in on the conversation. 

Bear wagged his tail. 

“Yeah, some nosy housewife brought over some muffins this morning.”  Shaw said with obvious derision. 

Harold was reaching over the side of the bench to rummage around in his satchel, searching for his laptop.

“Did you leave any for the kid?”  John asked, skeptical.

“What is that supposed to mean?”  Shaw demanded, getting heated. 

John glanced at Bear, who just turned his head away as if to let the ex-CIA operative know he was on his own.

“Just that we all know you’re not too…fond of sharing your food.”  John said with a slight smile of the memory of the first time Fusco had tried to snag a few of Shaw’s French fries. 

“I’m a professional, _John_.  I know how to treat my numbers.  I give them water.  A few crusts of bread, you know, to keep them breathing.”  Shaw growled. 

John chuckled and reached out to ruffle Bear’s ears. 

“Give me a little credit, okay.  We’re going for groceries soon.”  Shaw answered on a more serious note. 

John nodded.

“Bear says hello.”  John informed his colleague with a laugh as Bear barked and jumped up at his name.

“Af, Bear.  Zit.”  Harold muttered as he settled his laptop on his knees and opened it reverently.

“Where’d you end up?”  John asked, filling the silence while Harold booted up his computer. 

“Some place called Flower Hill…it’s awful, Reese.  All of the houses look exactly the same.  There’s no character, no danger…and there are no food trucks for miles…”  John made a face as he heard Shaw cursing on the other line.  He could hear the definite sound of Sameen Shaw battling a technological device as the occasional beeps and verbal ‘denied’s could be heard through static.

“What’s wrong?”  John asked, concerned. 

“I’m going to kill her.”  Shaw muttered. 

Harold looked up suddenly, looking a little pale as his computer finally locked onto Shaw’s position and indicated she and Root were staying at 314 Walnut Lane in the Flower Hill area. 

“Kill who?  Not Miss Christenson, I hope.”  Harold sounded slightly panicked.  

“She can’t just go around changing the passwords.  I set the temperature to 65.  65 is mild.  She shouldn’t have touched it; it’s fine.”  Shaw was muttering. 

“Shaw?”  John asked. 

He heard what he assumed was Shaw punching the wall of the lovely home that was 314 Walnut Lane…at least it looked lovely from Google Earth.  Harold had angled his laptop to show him. 

“It’s too hot in here.  Who needs 72o ? That’s four degrees warmer than it is outside!”  Shaw was cursing again.

“Miss Shaw, are you trying to access the house’s central heating system?”  Harold asked.  The cursing stopped for a moment.

“Can you see what she changed it to?”  Shaw demanded. 

Harold frowned slightly. 

“Miss Shaw…it appears the password was only just set last night and then that same password was used again this morning around 9:15.”  Harold said almost apologetically. 

“Are you sure you didn’t just forget it?”  John asked, ever the peace maker. 

He could hear Shaw growl over the comm.

“No.  I use the same password for everything.”  Shaw snapped. 

Harold made a noise in the back of his throat.

“That’s hardly efficient, Miss Shaw.  If you want to protect your privacy, you really should…”

“Just give me the password. Harold!”  Shaw snapped. 

Harold sighed and pushed his glasses up on his nose, squinting at the screen.

"It is a four digit code, are you ready?”  Harold asked. 

He could hear Shaw’s angry breathing and he took that as all the affirmative response he needed. 

“The password is seven…six…six…eight.”  Harold sighed with relief as the blueprint of the house on his screen lit up green. 

“That’s better.”  Shaw growled as she reset the temperature. 

John frowned, and glanced at Harold even though his friend wasn’t looking at him.  The numbers that had been entered as the password had flickered as letters before stabilizing into digital numbers in the small box on Harold’s screen…and John had seen what that particular combination spelled.  He wondered if Harold had too and just chose to ignore it. 

“So what’s the latest, Harold?  Did you find anything on our number’s dead parents?”  Shaw asked with what anyone else would consider a chipper tone. 

Harold sighed and opened a new file.      

“I’m sorry to admit that we haven’t made much progress on our end.  As far as I can tell, there could be no immediate business that brought the Christensons into the country…all of the traveling Mr. Christenson had done over the past three years was confined to Scandanavia…giving talks on the clean energy implemented on his farm.  And Mrs. Christenson was a teacher in the local village these days.  They weren’t particularly wealthy, and a trip like this would have cut a significant chunk from their savings.”  Harold said as he checked one or two documents on his computer screen.  John frowned as he patted Bear’s head and then leaned to peer over Harold’s shoulder. 

“Savings?  Did you check to see if they had any special accounts set up for Daniella?”  Shaw asked. 

Harold pressed his lips together and closed one window to open another. 

“It appears the child’s funds have been well managed…she has a very large account waiting for her when she comes of age—wait a minute.”  Harold frowned as he clicked on one alert and his fingers started flying again.

“Hold on a moment…oh.  Oh my.  It appears there are several very lucrative accounts set up for Miss Christenson, many of them much, much larger than the account set up by her adoptive parents.”  Harold said, glancing at Mr. Reese and angling his laptop to show his colleague the sheer amount of funds available to the four year old girl they were tasked with protecting.

“The kid’s almost as rich as you, Harold.”  John said bluntly. 

He could hear Shaw laughing on the other end of the line. 

“I’m sure that is hardly very comforting to the child, Mr. Reese.  Considering her family was just gunned down.”  Harold gave Mr. Reese a disapproving look as he pulled his laptop away like an indignant child.  

John shrugged.

“Finch, do you think it’s possible the Christensons were lured here.  Someone after the kid’s money?”  John asked thoughtfully.

“That is a possibility, but then why would he have the Christenson’s killed?  Their assets are frozen while the police investigate, and with the added international problem…it seems our perpetrator is making an awful lot of extra work for himself if money is the only goal.  There are easier ways to get at someone’s money, you know…”  Harold murmured.

“Do you and Root have the safe house locked down?”  John asked Shaw.  “If this kid’s money is the target, the name Christenson isn’t safe anymore.” 

“Really, John?  I’m offended.”  Shaw snorted in mock disdain.  “We spent the whole morning going over our cover.”

“And the girl understands it?”  Harold asked.

“What is it?”  John asked with a sly grin. 

There was silence for a moment.

“Root’s coming down with the kid, I have to go.”  Shaw suddenly said. 

John grinned, but Harold reacted more quickly.

“Miss Shaw, wait!  It may be important for John and I to know who exactly you are pretending to be in case we need to send assistance…” 

“We’re a couple of deadly operatives holed up with a millionaire kid in suburbia, Harold.  What do you _think_ our cover is?”  Shaw’s voice was tense and icy. 

Harold looked completely bewildered. 

John smiled even broader. 

“All you’re missing is the dog, Shaw.”  John said, his laugh very obvious in his voice. 

Bear barked.

“You better take care of him, Reese, or so help me I will take your precious Remington 700 and shove it right up your—”  Shaw’s voice was menacing, but both John and Harold could hear a childish squeal in the background, quickly followed by a laugh that made Harold shudder…it was unmistakably Root’s.

“You ready to go, Sweetie?”  Was indistinctly heard over the line and Harold and John exchanged looks once more. 

“I’m hanging up now, Harold.”  Shaw hissed just before the line went dead. 

Harold looked at a complete loss.  His fingers flexed over the keys of his laptop but didn’t touch down.  John stared out across the park blankly as he lifted his coffee to his lips and took a slow sip. 

“You don’t think they’ll…kill each other, do you?”  Harold asked after a moment of silence. 

Before John could respond there was a strange notification ding from Harold’s laptop and both men leaned toward the screen.  There was a wedding invitation in the foreground, dated several years ago, announcing the union of one Samantha and Sameen Arundel.

“This does not bode well.”  Harold murmured. 

Bear rested his head on John’s lap and stared forlornly toward the screen. 

“At least they survived the first night…first night’s always the hardest.”  John said lightly as he finished his coffee.

“Somehow, Mr. Reese, I do not find that very reassuring.”  Harold said as he shook his head and looked again at the cheerful wedding announcement.  The two golden bands at the top of the invitation looked strangely like handcuffs to the reclusive billionaire, and in light of that ominous sign, he felt his only hope was that all of this would end soon.


	13. Chapter 13

Shaw drummed her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as she waited for Root to buckle the kid into her car seat. 

“Which book do you want to look at, Ella bird?”  Root asked, holding up two picture books. 

Daniella squealed and pointed to the one with colorfully dressed mice on the cover.  Root smiled and passed over the book, hoping it would keep Daniella entertained as they drove to the supermarket. 

It took all of Shaw’s resolve not to peel out of the driveway on their quiet little street, but she refrained.  Root was staring out through the broken window.  Daniella was chatting away as she worked her way through her picture book.  Shaw was tempted to turn on the radio to drown out both the child’s gibberish and Root’s bitterness, but she decided that would probably only irritate Root and make her even more disagreeable. 

“Left, Sameen.”  Root said when they were completely stopped at a stop sign. 

There were no other cars out and about. 

Shaw sighed as she flicked on her blinker and drummed her fingers along the steering wheel again.

“We should probably get another car.”  Shaw said to break the silence. 

“You mean actually pay for one, so you don’t have to break the window?”  Root asked without turning her head.  Shaw glanced at Root from the corner of her eye.  She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d done this time to send Root into one of her moods.  It was as if the hacker had flirted with her and called her ‘Sweetie’ minutes before only because she’d known there was an audience, and now that they were alone again, she was brooding. 

“Well, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”  Shaw said as she grudgingly let a car pass.  

“Mommy!”  The child called from the backseat. 

Root twisted so she could smile at her daughter. 

“What is it, Ella?” 

“Where are we going?”  Daniella asked, holding the book in one hand and scratching at her head with the other.  Root smiled and tilted her head. 

“We’re going into town to pick up a few things, remember?  Your job is to remember the eggs and the milk.  Do you think you can remind me to get eggs and milk when we go to the store?”  Root asked her daughter. 

Daniella’s eyebrows furrowed slightly and she dropped the book into the seat beside her.

"Maybe you should write it down, Mommy.  Reeta always writes it down.  So she won’t forget.” 

Shaw flinched slightly and glanced at Root.  She saw that Root had paled as well at the mention of the dead woman’s name and the chocolate eyes locked briefly with Shaw’s before Root looked back to the little girl.

“Ella...do you remember talking in the kitchen this morning?”  Root asked slowly. 

The child nodded, fiddling with the straps of her carseat as she kicked her legs happily. 

“When Sameen and I were talking, those stories we were telling, they were for—“

“Daniella…we’re going to play a little game.”  Shaw cut in quickly with what she hoped was a conspiratorial tone and not a scary one.  She could see the grocery store now, and she didn’t have time for this. 

The little girl just looked at her with wide eyes. 

“Do you remember that bad man with a gun?”  Shaw asked, looking up at the child’s reflection in the rearview mirror.  She could see by the darkening of the child’s eyes that she did remember. 

“Well you see, we all have to play a special game of hide-and-seek with him…to make sure he will never find us, okay?”  Shaw explained as she turned into the supermarket’s parking lot.  “The rules for this game are pretty simple.  We have to tell lots of lies.  And we have to tell them well enough that other people think they’re true.”  Shaw said as she parked far away from the other cars, even if they were few. 

The child’s eyebrows came together very slowly.

“But…lying is wrong.  Isn’t lying wrong, Mommy?”  Daniella turned her eyes to Root who was now very pointedly glaring at Shaw.  Shaw ignored the look and turned off the engine and opened the door, making it clear she wasn’t going to sit in the car and wait for Root to explain the intricacies of espionage to a four year old.

“Yes, Daniella.  Lying is wrong.”  Root said angrily as she unbuckled her own seat belt, glaring at Shaw for a moment before looking back at her daughter.  “But what Sameen means is, we have to pretend…we have to pretend, just for a little while, until the bad man goes away.”

“Pretend?”  Daniella asked, confused. 

Root sighed as she slipped out of the car and went to the backseat.  She opened the door and leaned over the child, smoothing several curls away from the little girl’s face.

“You remember what Mommy promised you?”  Root asked quietly. 

Daniella thought for a moment. 

“That you would love me forever, no matter what?”  The child tried hopefully. 

Shaw snorted, but Root ignored her. 

Root smiled at her daughter and nuzzled her cheek.

“Exactly, but also…that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  Sameen and I are working very hard to keep you safe.  And for now, keeping you safe means pretending that we’re all a family.  That the house we’re staying in is our house.  That you don’t have one mommy, but two mommies.”  Root explained gently. 

Daniella’s frown deepened.

“Two mommies?”  Daniella asked. 

Root sighed and glanced through the opposite window at Shaw, asking with her eyes for some help.  Shaw ignored her plea and stood stubbornly beside the car.  She had tried to be clear, concise, and blunt for the child, and Root had decided it wasn’t good enough.  Therefore, Root could live with the consequences.    

“Yes, Ella…Sameen and I will pretend to be your mommies for now.”  Root said. 

Daniella’s eyes darkened a little and Shaw couldn’t help but smirk.  Root was about to get it.

“But…you _are_ my mommy.”  Daniella said sternly. 

Root nodded.

“Yes, I am, Ella.  I will always be your mommy, forever.  But we have to pretend that Sameen is your mommy too…” 

Daniella was hardly listening.  She turned narrowed eyes on Sameen, her childish face looking strangely closed and pensive.

“Sah-meen doesn’t like me.”  Daniella said darkly. 

 “What?  Of course she likes you.”  Root tried to salvage the situation, but she was completely taken by surprise.  She'd had no indication that there was animosity brewing between Shaw and her daughter.  Well, Shaw wasn't exactly sunshine and smiles, but she hadn't exactly gone out of her way to be dismissive of Daniella.  Had she?

Shaw stared at the little girl, eyeing her through the window.  She could feel a fight brewing in the air and she nonchalantly reached over to close the driver side door to mute what was about to happen.  Shaw thought it was smart of Root to leave the child strapped in for now…who knows what would happen if she were loose.

“No she doesn’t.”  Daniella argued, loudly, turning to look at Root.  “I want a different other mommy.” 

“Daniella…” 

Shaw could still hear everything, even though she was on the other side of the car.  Root’s voice had an authoritative tone that Shaw hadn’t heard her use on the little girl before. 

“She’s mean to you.”  Daniella pouted, crossing her arms over her little chest while her eyes flashed with a vengeance. 

The child started kicking her little legs against the seat. 

“You said she’s always like that.  Sah-meen is a meanie.”  Daniella said seriously. 

“Daniella Kathleen, that isn’t a polite thing to say.”  Root said in that dangerous tone. 

Daniella’s lower lip protruded and her entire face went dark as if storm clouds had passed over it.  Shaw watched this quarrel with interest, still a little too stunned to intervene. 

“You love her more than me.”  Daniella said fiercely. 

Her angelic face was redder than Shaw had yet seen it, and she realized suddenly that there were tears in her eyes. 

“Ella bird, that isn’t—“

“Why can’t it just be you and me?  I don’t like Sah-meen.  I only love you.”  Daniella shouted. 

Root looked startled. 

Daniella was sobbing now. 

For the first time since Shaw had seen Root and Daniella together, Root looked unsure.  Root reached tentatively toward her child only to have her hand swatted away.    

“Ella…what has gotten into you?”  Root whispered, her voice drowned out by the ravings of her child. 

Shaw blinked and then glanced toward the store that was only a few hundred feet away.  There was an elderly couple coming out now with a full cart.  They weren’t close enough to notice anything suspicious going on, but still…Shaw sighed and walked around the car.

“Here.”  Shaw tossed the keys to Root. 

Root caught the keys, but still looked dazed.  The child was still beside herself, sobbing and kicking her legs. 

“Drive around for about twenty minutes and see if that helps.”  Shaw said evenly, keeping an eye on the elderly couple that was slowly making their way through the parking lot. 

Root didn’t respond.  She stood slowly and closed the door, looking pained as this only seemed to upset Daniella further. 

“What about you?”  Root asked without looking Shaw in the eye.  Shaw nodded toward the supermarket. 

“I’m going to get us some food.  It shouldn’t take long.  Maybe circle back after awhile…I would appreciate it if you didn’t leave me…”  Shaw said with what she hoped was a light enough tone. 

Root didn’t laugh.  She walked wordlessly around the car and slipped into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. 

Shaw turned in the opposite direction, nodding toward the elderly couple without smiling as Root drove away with their number crying in the backseat. 


	14. Chapter 14

Root wasn’t sure what to make of Daniella’s behavior. 

It had taken driving around the park and then what felt like hours of holding her child and just letting her cry while she tried to tell her over and over again that she loved her, that she would always love her…and that she was sorry.  The Machine hadn’t seen fit to lend her any mothering advice, but Root preferred it that way.  The Machine always let her figure things out on her own, and it made Root appreciate Her even more…even if Root now wondered how she could have ever thought she could do this.

Root knew things could have gone very badly if Shaw hadn’t intervened at the aquarium, but now things were only getting worse. 

It was hard enough being with her daughter again knowing full well she would have to say goodbye when this was all over—but now it felt like new battle lines were being drawn.  Shaw had been her one real connection to the Machine’s _other_ assets—Harold’s rag-tag family that Root didn’t quite fit into—and now even that link seemed strained.  Root usually had a very clear picture of what the future would look like, once the battle was over and the Machine was safe…it was fuzzy, but she knew what it _should_ look like.  But now…Root felt more confused than she had in years, not since the Machine had come into her life. 

Now Root wasn’t sure what the future would look like, or if she even deserved to see it.  

Daniella had finally fallen asleep and Root watched her through the rear-view mirror. 

She memorized every curve of her face, every soft eyelash…the way the afternoon sun set her copper hair on fire…Daniella’s future would be a beautiful one, Root was sure of that.  That was the only thing she could be sure of.  It was why she had to do so much for the Machine.  Her child’s future was dependent on Her survival through the storm that was coming. 

Daniella was completely unaware as Root exchanged the stolen car for one with all four windows intact, one that was purchased (relatively) legally.  Daniella’s face felt warm as Root carefully buckled the carseat in the new car and brushed her hand over Daneilla’s forehead.  She felt warm.  Almost feverish.  Root worried her baby may have gotten herself sick. 

Root had sung herself hoarse while she tried to calm her child down, but now she had only the silence of her own thoughts to distract her as she started circling the parking lot, waiting for Shaw.  Root tried to ignore the nagging feeling that this was all her fault.  She wanted to stay angry with Sameen, but she couldn’t even rightly remember what it was she had been angry about. 

Root took slow, gentle turns, hoping to lull Daniella toward more peaceful dreams.  T

here were only seven other cars in the parking lot, and Root could see that the cracked lane leading around the store, a service lane for the delivery trucks led to an alley…another means of quick escape, should the need arise—though now Root was sure she was just getting anxious.  No one could possibly find them so quickly, not with Her looking out for them.  Root just needed to relax and forget the way her daughter had looked at her as she tried to calm her down—so heartbroken and betrayed…Root couldn’t bear to see her child in pain. 

It had made her want to cry.

Root took a deep breath and glared at the entrance, humming to herself as she made yet another pass, growing impatient. 

Root was both relieved and filled with dread when Shaw finally appeared on the curb, looking stoic and unimpressed as ever as Root pulled up to her, several feet away from the entrance.  She kept her eyes on Shaw, looking for a clue.

Shaw had a cart full of groceries, though she stood with her hands thrust into her hoodie pockets.  She didn’t comment on the new car.  She didn’t comment on the uncertainty that made a usually confidant Root stand a few feet further away from Shaw instead of invading her personal space.  She didn’t comment on the uncomfortable tension that had sprung up between them.  Shaw glanced up at the sky.

“The kid asleep?”  Shaw asked as if she couldn’t see for herself. 

Shaw held out her hand, expectantly. 

Root sighed and handed over the keys, saying nothing.

“We need to talk Root.”  Shaw said when she finally lowered her eyes and slipped the keys into her hoodie pocket. 

Root nodded mechanically.

“I know.”  She said. 

Shaw frowned.

“Do you?” 

Shaw waited for Root to look at her again, to really look at her.  The tall brunette looked…tired…as if all the energy _and_ feeling had been drained from her…but not all of the fight.  Shaw could see that Root was already tensing, preparing to keep her secrets at all costs and Shaw couldn’t have that. 

“She can’t do that again, Root.”  Shaw said icily, jabbing a finger toward the window that perfectly framed the sleeping child. 

Root’s lips compressed into a thin line and she moved deliberately around Shaw to open the trunk.  She was unsure what Shaw was really saying.  She didn’t like being so unshakably unsure of so many things. 

“She’s just a child, Sameen.  Her whole world has been turned upside down, she’s allowed a temper tantrum or two.”  Root said stiffly. 

She grabbed the case of water near Shaw’s feet and hefted it into the trunk, trying to be gentle so the jolting of the car wouldn’t wake her daughter. 

“In a kinder world, maybe.  But you know what we’re up against.  We have to stick to our cover.  She can’t mention the Finnish couple again.  That can’t happen.”  Shaw said flatly, aware that even though they were in the middle of the parking lot of the only supermarket for miles and miles…they wouldn’t be overheard.  There was no one out here to bother listening in.

“That’s easier said than done, Shaw.  Klaus and Reeta were her whole world…”  Root started, her eyes darting to confirm that there was no one to overhear. 

Shaw frowned at her.

“Clearly not her _whole_ world.  You’re the only one she loves, remember.”  Shaw said pointedly. 

Root clenched her fists and glanced away to check her thoughts before she said something she may regret.  It was midday now, and the world was lit up brightly.  Root wondered why even in the open like this, it felt as if the light couldn’t touch her to dispel the coldness that had settled in her bones…the coldness between her and Shaw.

“Shaw, the things Daniella said…I’m sorry—“

“Don’t change the subject, Root.”  Shaw snapped. 

Root blinked, having to close her eyes against the glare from the sun.  She wanted to pretend she didn’t know what Shaw was talking about…the ex-ISA agent was being very vague after all…but Root knew Shaw.  She knew what Shaw really wanted to talk about. 

Root shivered and turned away.   

She started packing more bags into the back of the car, realizing it must look ridiculous, two grown women having an argument out in front of the supermarket while a child slept in the car…not to mention it was probably bad parenting.

“Root.”  Shaw warned as she watched Root angrily tossing in one bag after another, regardless of what was in them. 

“Do you want me to say it?”  Root demanded.

The way she tossed the bread in so haphazardly, made Shaw wince.  Shaw clenched her jaw and said nothing. 

“Fine, Shaw.  You’re right.  It’s my fault.  All of it.”  Root snapped. 

Shaw’s expression didn’t change. 

“I should have been more careful.  I should never have let her know my face.”  Root said angrily. 

Shaw’s lips twitched.

“Abandonment 101.”  Shaw said without colour. 

Root froze, her eyes widening a little in surprise at being interrupted. 

Shaw didn’t miss a beat, “No contact.  Absolutely none, Root.  No trace of any kind.”

“I tried that.”  Root retorted before she could help herself.  She hated that Shaw knew just how to rile her up. 

Root saw that glint in Shaw’s eye that meant she’d gotten exactly the reaction she wanted.  Root shot a glare at her and grabbed the last few bags from the curb, making it clear she didn’t want to say any more.  Shaw slammed the trunk down before Root could put the last of the groceries away.  Shaw kept her eyes on Root, her expression cold, but she couldn’t hide the mild interest. 

“That’s not like you, Root.”  Shaw said evenly as she pressed the button to lock the car. 

Root’s eyes narrowed and she glared at Shaw, quivering with fury. 

Shaw stared calmly back. She wanted answers and she would force them from Root if she had to. 

“You never just _try_ something. You always dive right in and see things through to the end.  It’s why you get shot all the time.  Even when you don’t know what you’re doing, you commit completely and you do it.”  Shaw said in a flat tone, knowing that Root was too flustered and upset to see this as a compliment…even if in an off-hand way it kind of was. 

Root’s eyes flashed and she bit her lower lip, but she didn’t say anything. 

Shaw was getting impatient.  She took a step toward Root.

“So what happened?”  Shaw asked. 

Root clenched her fists and glared at the asphalt beneath her feet. 

Shaw took another step, anger making her fierce.      

"Did you have second thoughts about giving her away?  Were you harboring the hope that maybe someday you and Daniella’s father could get together and give her a happy—“

Root’s eyes somehow got darker and yet lit up again at the same time.

“There is no _father_.” 

Something about the way Root said it made Shaw hesitate and swallow whatever it was she was about to say. 

Shaw had to admit, the idea had never sat well with her—Root having a child at all—simply because she knew Root…and she knew Root had no interest in men, men who would be required for the process of procreation.  Shaw had always known Root was into women.  Just as Shaw could take either men or women, depending on her mood and how good the steak had been…Shaw could tell that Root had always had a fixed preference.  Shaw highly doubted Root had inseminated herself just for the fun of it, especially given her time as a hired killer who believed there was absolutely nothing redeemable about the human race, but that left her with very few options as to how the child sleeping in the back of the family car had come into existence.

Shaw held Root’s gaze, trying to find answers in the usually warm chocolate eyes. 

Root turned away from the scrutiny and went to the passenger side door.   

“How could I possibly _know_ that, Root, if you refuse to tell me anything?”  Shaw called after her, less forceful even if her posture and tone still indicated her fierceness. 

Root’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t respond right away.  She kept her hand on the handle, her back to Shaw.

“You said you didn’t want to hear it.”  Root said after a moment. 

Shaw waited for more, but Root remained stubbornly silent. 

“Shaw, unlock the door.”  Root said coldly. 

Shaw waited a few more seconds to see if Root would cave, but she didn’t.  Shaw grunted and unlocked the car, watching Root slip inside.  Shaw sighed and glared up at the sky for a moment.  She fiddled with the keys before taking up the last two bags of groceries and popping them into the trunk.  Shaw rearranged the groceries so her onion cheese bagels wouldn’t get squished and then shut the trunk. 

She glanced a final time around the parking lot, surprised to see that it hadn’t caught fire or anything while she and Root argued.

Shaw slid into the driver’s seat and closed her door.  Root was staring out her window again watching a new car pull slowly into the parking lot, the first to drive by in perhaps fifteen minutes.  Shaw glanced up at the rearview mirror to check on the status of the child…Daniella was still fast asleep.  She hadn’t stirred. 

Shaw nodded as if to herself and stuck the keys in the ignition, but she couldn’t bring herself to start the engine just yet. 

“Root…I said I didn’t _want_ to...doesn’t mean I don’t need to.”  Shaw said quietly.  She inwardly tensed, waiting for Root to find some way to twist her words into some sort of testament to feelings that weren’t there, as if Shaw needing to know about Root’s past could somehow indicate that Shaw had feelings for the hacker…which she didn’t.

But Root only let out a deep breath, deflating slightly.

“Not here, Sameen.  Please.” 

 Shaw nodded curtly and started the engine. 

Root closed her eyes in appreciation and turned again to the window, resting her forehead against the glass. 

She wasn’t sure where they were going, but she knew things could only get worse from here.


	15. Chapter 15

Shaw gripped the wheel tightly. 

She was seriously considering driving this brand new car right into a tree just to end the silence.  And there were plenty of trees.  Great, big tall ones lining the roads as if to make doubly sure everyone knew this was a friendly place—friendly to the ecosystem, friendly neighbors, blah, blah, blah. 

Shaw could almost taste the overassertive ‘pleasantness’ like an airborne pestilence. 

Shaw pulled into their driveway, fuming because Root still refused to speak. Granted, the drive had only been fifteen minutes or so, but Shaw had spent every one of those minutes waiting for the answers she had been promised.  

She hated waiting.

Shaw pulled to a stop and froze when she saw a pair of pesky neighbors peering over the hedgerow.  They had goofy grins on their faces as they waved good-naturedly.  Shaw groaned and forced a half-wave.  She could see Root give a much better imitation of civility. 

The man and woman smiled and waved again before disappearing into their own home. 

Shaw sighed in relief and reached for the keys. 

“Computers always made more sense to me.” 

Shaw frowned and glanced at Root, but she wasn’t looking at her.  She was still gazing out her window. 

Shaw cut the engine and leaned back, still looking at Root.

“Than what?”  She prodded. 

Root sighed and rubbed absentmindedly at her chin.

“Than people.”  Root whispered.  She laughed a little and dropped her hand.  “I never understood how people could…why they do such terrible things to each other.” 

“Money.  Jealousy…greed.  Envy and fear…those are pretty common motivators.”  Shaw said with a shrug. 

Root slowly turned her head, the faintest of smiles quirking the corners of her mouth. 

Shaw allowed a small smile of her own.  “And then of course there’s the prevalent theory that everyone’s just…bad code.” 

Root smiled and glanced down at her hands in her lap. 

“Harold always thought my…philosophy before I met the Machine indicated I had some sort of narcissistic egomania…that I excluded myself from my rather dismal view of humanity, held myself higher…” 

“But you didn’t.”  Shaw suggested. 

Root shook her head. 

“I failed to save my friend, Hanna…I figured I was just as broken and flawed as everyone else.”  Root said without much feeling. 

“Come on, Root.  You were only a kid.  John told me you did everything you could…it was the operator who made a mistake.”  Shaw wasn’t sure why she felt like she needed to make Root feel better…but she did. 

“One mistake; that’s all it takes…”  Root whispered, staring at her fists. 

It was a rule she had learned in principle when she was teaching herself to code, one flaw and the entire code has to be rewritten…much later she learned that law had consequences just as devastating in real life. 

“But Root, it wasn’t your fault.”  Shaw tried. 

Root looked up, a defeated expression on her face.

“Maybe not for Hanna, but Daniella…it was.  I should have been more careful.”  Root said softly. 

Shaw frowned slightly. 

“What do you mean?”  Shaw asked. 

“A few years ago, I was hired for a job…a hotel magnate wanted to get rid of his competitor…nothing out of the ordinary.  Simple.  But I should have recognized the target.  It was someone I had worked for before, one of my early clients…someone who knew my face.” 

Shaw just stared.  She hadn’t often heard Root talk about her ‘B.M.’ days…before the Machine.  But she knew Root had been good at what she did.  Just as Shaw herself and John had both been very skilled in their art…but for some reason, both John and Shaw could talk about their days before.  Never with other people…usually just with each other, and mostly just about the places they had been, the food they liked or didn’t like, the weapons they had mastered, or particularly difficult situations they’d been in…never about the people they had to kill, or the people they could never be again. 

Shaw realized suddenly that Root didn’t have anyone she could confide in like that…unless you counted the Machine, which Shaw didn’t. 

“Don’t look so surprised, Shaw.  I told you…one mistake, that’s all it takes.  Mine was beginner’s hubris.  I had a few early successes and I thought that made me untouchable.  I realized I was pretty good at killing people, and I chose to make a career out of it.  I always communicated digitally, but I didn’t really have a head for business…in the early days there were a few pushy blue bloods who wanted visual confirmation of success, they’d refuse to pay until they had met me…and I didn’t know at the time how to set my own terms and operate completely anonymous.”  Root explained with a shrug. 

“And so the man you were sent to kill…he knew you?”  Shaw was starting to think she knew where this was going, but she wanted to let Root say it…she had a feeling Root needed to get it off her chest. 

Root held Shaw’s eyes and nodded ever so slightly. 

 “I don’t know how or when he saw me.  It could have been when I moved on site to get more direct access to relevant security feeds…I don’t know…he could have seen me at some random coffee shop or when I was going into the building next to his to steal the security tapes…”  Root lifted her hands up helplessly to indicate she had no explanation for what happened next. 

Shaw didn’t say anything.  She willed Root with her eyes to go on. 

“He knew how I worked…and he knew why I was there…so he waited for me.”  Root said. 

When Shaw still made no comment, Root sighed and turned her eyes to the window once more. 

“He ambushed my strike man, and traced the last communication I’d made before I realized what had happened.  He found me in the warehouse I had chosen for my base of operations and he attacked me.”  Root finished flatly.           

“He raped you.”  Shaw said without colour. 

Root nodded almost imperceptibly.  Even when she knew it was coming, Shaw couldn’t help but feel anger sear against her throat as if to light the way for a scream.  Her fists clenched involuntarily and the edges of her vision shook. 

Shaw had been part of the military for years. 

She knew its dark secrets. 

She had known women on the force who were raped and threatened, or transferred, or shipped off…some who were even killed just to shut them up when they made too much noise.  It was something no one talked about.  But as much as she had enjoyed being ‘one of the boys’…she had had to live with the knowledge and the _threat_ every day.  The men in her unit had learned very early not to mess with her, but in other departments, the air force especially, women had to work twice as hard to even be considered... _human_.  And if they didn't measure up they often became targets…usually just to ensure they knew their place in the ‘men’s club’. 

Shaw had heard many stories, as if the female soldiers she knew had decided she was worth trusting simply because she was a woman as well…but not one of the stories from her time in the military had ever made her feel so…angry.  She had heard sergeants say "she should have known better" or "she was asking for it" before, and she had never batted an eyelash.  She had never felt it right to judge anyone on what had happened to them.  She chose to judge rather on how they responded, how they acted.  It was what defined a Victim from a Perpetrater.  It was what distinguished a weary soul from a survivor. 

“I only had one gun that day.”  Root said flatly, as if saying that could make Shaw understand how she could have been overpowered, as if Shaw needed an explanation…as if she blamed her. 

Shaw just looked at Root.  Shaw had learned early on not to underestimate Root, she was a lot stronger than she looked…but Shaw also knew Root felt things in a way that Shaw just didn’t.  In fact, she felt _too_ much.  And yet her face was calm, if a little paler than usual, while Shaw was the one struggling with this…strange new desire to do violence…lots of it. 

It was a new sensation for her.  Shaw had always been a good soldier.  She followed orders, but could always think for herself.  She had never been one to use excessive force, but she suddenly had the strong desire to make someone hurt badly…and not in the fun way. 

It wasn’t the usual drive she felt when seeking revenge for her comrades…like for Cole…revenge was simple, and organized, personal, but a task with an objective; a life for a life, a bullet in the extremities for every scar.  This was different.  It didn’t have any structure, or edges.  This… _roar_ in her chest was a shapeless wave of something even hotter than anger. 

The objective was an unreachable horizon…there was no way to even the score.

“Like I said…computers always made more sense to me.”  Root said as she turned her head away again. 

Root was surprised to see Shaw’s eyes changing color so quickly.  Her lips were parted slightly and she seemed to be breathing a little faster than before. 

Root stared out her window to the perfectly manicured lawns stretching beyond the horizon. 

“I never understood how Trent Russel could hurt Hanna…she never hurt anyone.  She was a pure good…full of life and promise.”  Root murmured wistfully.  She hadn’t realized that she’d started tapping on the glass.  It was an old habit she’d picked up while she was incarcerated…usually at Harold’s hands.  She sighed and dropped her hand to the door handle, considering whether or not Shaw would think she'd said enough, or if she would insist on more details. 

“I had a reason to kill Russel.  I killed him for killing Hanna.  Simple.  Elegant.  Done.  But this man…”  Root laughed without mirth, surprised that Shaw had yet to interrupt.  She appeared frozen. 

“Daniella’s father…he should have killed me.  I was going to kill him, so it makes sense, but…instead he…”  Root paused and focused on uncurling her fists and breathing…it helped her to stay away from the dark place her memories had become. 

“He wanted to humiliate me, I suppose, make me fear him.  But I wasn’t afraid I was just…”  Root couldn’t find the right word.  She struggled for a moment, but then gave up.  Shaw had made no indication she was still listening anyway.  Root shrugged and turned away.

“Is he dead?”  Shaw’s voice was low and dangerous. 

Root started, shocked. 

Root didn’t answer fast enough for Shaw, she clenched her fists and lifted her head again.

“The bastard who hurt you, Root.  Is he dead?”  Shaw asked again. 

“Yes, Sameen.  I killed him.”  Root said, surprised. 

She eyed Shaw, unable to stop a small part of herself from noticing that Shaw did always seem so much sexier when she was ready to jump into the fray to protect her. 

“And afterward, I went back through my old files, erasing everyone and anyone who had seen my face and knew me as Root…cleaning up my early mistakes took months, I had to be thorough.”  Root said to make sure Shaw understood no other early clients existed...none of them could be behind the attacks on Daniella and her adopted parents. 

Shaw nodded, relieved, and banged her head back against the headrest. 

“You missed one.”  Shaw murmured, closing her eyes. 

Root’s entire body felt as if it had been electrified.  She sat up bolt right, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“What is that supposed to mean?”  Root demanded, her voice little more than a whisper. 

Shaw shrugged, but didn’t open her eyes.

“There are other ways to handle something like that, Root.  You didn’t have to have your rapist’s child—” Shaw started slowly. 

"That was never an option.”  Root said forcefully. 

Shaw frowned and opened her eyes to stare at the pristine ceiling of their new family car. 

“Why not?  You’re not religious—well, not in the Holy Trinity damning everyone to hell and fire sort of way.”  Shaw tried to reason it out for her own sake as she struggled to regain control of her own thoughts…and apparently her feelings as well.  She could still feel the adrenaline making her hands shake.

“I’m from Texas, Sameen.  People from Texas…well, you wouldn’t understand.”  Root huffed, opening her car door suddenly to signal the end of the conversation. Shaw rolled her eyes.

“It _was_ an option, you just chose not to—“ 

Root slammed her door…hard.

“Mommy?”  Immediately, the child in the back lifted her head sleepily. 

Shaw bit her tongue and stared straight ahead.  She heard the side door slide open. 

“Hey there, Ella bird.  Did you have a good nap?”  Root asked as she leaned in to unbuckle her child. 

“Mommy, are you crying?”  Daniella asked, waking up faster as if she could sense her parent’s distress. 

"No, baby.  Lift your arms up for me…good girl.”  Root whispered soothingly as she eased the straps over her child’s head and shoulders. 

 “Are we home, Mommy?”  Daniella asked with another yawn. 

Root smiled slightly and brushed Daniella’s hair from her face. 

“Mhmmm.  Isn’t there something you want to tell Sameen?”  Root asked pointedly as she straightened and crossed to the back of the car to open the trunk. 

Daniella thought about this for a moment.  She kicked her heels together and glanced toward the front of the car. 

Shaw was still sitting in the driver’s seat, still staring straight ahead…though she glanced up at the rearview mirror to warily make eye contact with the child.

“Mommy says I have to apologize.”  Daniella said, clearly thinking this was unfair. 

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

“Do you know what you’re apologizing for?”  Shaw asked the child in the mirror. 

Daniella tossed her head back against her carseat in a familiar gesture of exasperation as her eyes darted to the side.

“For being impossible.”  The child said. 

Shaw chuckled a little.  Her expression darkened when she caught the glimmer of movement in the rearview mirror.     

“Forget about it, kid.”  Shaw said, eyeing the shadow that was Root rummaging around in the back.

“Will you be nicer to my mommy?”  Daniella demanded suspiciously. 

Shaw lifted her eyes to the rearview mirror again, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Mommy says you’re angry all the time.”  Daniella said as if that piece of information somehow fit into the conversation they were having. 

“But you’re not angry now.  You look sad.”  Daniella said simply. 

Shaw blinked. 

“Ella, do you want to help me with these?”  Root called from somewhere Shaw couldn’t see. 

Daniella’s expression instantly morphed to one of joy.

“Coming!”  Daniella hopped down from her carseat and carefully lowered herself out of the side door.

Shaw closed her eyes and tried to remember what if felt like to feel nothing.

“Here, you can carry the bread for me.”  Root was saying. 

“Oh, Sam!” 

Shaw’s eyes flew open and her arm shot out of its own accord to adjust the mirror. 

Shaw’s eyes narrowed.  There was a woman flagging down Root, a woman wearing a pink cardigan and pink pumps…the woman looked like she belonged in a fifties film.  

“Kat.”  Root answered. 

Shaw frowned. 

There was no cat in sight. 

Either Root was speaking in code to her precious Machine again, which wasn’t altogether unlikely, or the woman who was running across the street was named ‘Kat’.

“I am so glad I caught you, I just wanted to let you know, everyone is looking forward to meeting you…”  The woman spoke so quickly, Shaw was sure Root had no idea what she was saying. 

“Oh my goodness!”  The woman interrupted herself with a high pitched squeal. 

Shaw was glad she was protected by the comforting metal body of her automobile to stifle the sound. 

“Is this your little girl?!”  Kat shrieked. 

Shaw couldn’t see Root’s expression.

“This is Daniella…”  Root hardly finished before the woman shrieked/laughed again. 

Shaw groaned and banged her head on the steering wheel.

“Oh, she is just precious, Sam.  You are so lucky…”  The woman insisted. 

“Mommy, the tomatoes.”  Daniella said. 

Shaw had no idea what was going on back there, but there was suddenly some sort of commotion and some nervous laughter from Root and some hysterical laughter from the stranger.  Shaw lifted her head curiously and glared at the reflection…the woman had her hand on Root’s arm as if ‘helping’ her somehow.

“Here, I can get this, and you take that…”  The woman spoke with authority. 

Shaw thought she sounded like she enjoyed ordering people around, maybe a little too much. 

“That’s really too kind of you, Kat.  We can manage.”  Root was saying. 

But the stranger was already ushering Daniella toward the door, with Root in tow.  Shaw slid down further in the seat. 

“Nonsense, let me help you, Sam.”  The woman spoke right over Root. 

Shaw could see through her side mirror that Root looked not only inconvenienced, but a little panicked.  She could also see Daniella’s eyebrows were furrowed as she looked back over her shoulder toward the car. 

“What about Sah-meen?”  The child inquired. 

Shaw sank down lower, cutting off her view of the trio heading through the front door. 

“Sameen?  Is your wife home too, Sam?”  The woman asked. 

Shaw waited for Root to say no, but instead she heard the front door opening.

“I’ll get her.  Daniella, will you show Kat the kitchen?” 

Shaw counted her breaths as she waited for the front door to close.  Eventually it did and after a moment the car shook as someone took some more groceries from the back of the car.  After a moment, the sun was blocked by Root peering down at Shaw through the window.  Shaw glared up at her, trying to ignore how uncomfortable it was to contort her body in this way.  She had compacted most of her lower half beneath the steering column, and it was killing her back to keep her head above the seat. 

Root looked down at Shaw without a trace of amusement. 

“When you do come inside, bring the milk.  It’ll spoil if we leave it out.”  Root said coldly. 

Shaw wasn’t going to respond, but she found it rude that Root didn’t even wait to see if she would.  She simply turned and walked away.


	16. Chapter 16

Root tried her best to spare her daughter what she feared would be an unsettling interrogation from the stranger as she and Kat started putting groceries away, but it was difficult.  Kat seemed fascinated with Daniella. 

“That is a pretty pink jumper you’re wearing, Daniella…is pink your favorite color?  It’s my favorite color too.  And what pretty shoes you’re wearing—did your mommy tie your laces for you?” 

But Root was beginning to realize that with Kat…the interrogation was actually a one sided conversation.  Daniella perched quietly on the counter and put away cans of food when Root asked her, but hardly had to say a word.  She was just starting to relax when the doors leading to the patio slid open and Shaw came in, lugging the last of the groceries. 

“There you are, Sweetie.”  Root said with fake warmth. 

Shaw lifted her eyes and Root could see instantly that Shaw hadn’t dropped the argument either. 

“Milk.”  Shaw said brusquely as she plopped the carton down as if making a statement. 

“Sameen, this is our neighbor Kat.  She brought over the muffins this morning.”  Root said flatly, glaring at Sameen behind Kat’s back.  Thankfully, Shaw’s openly cold stare in return wasn’t noticed as Daniella shrieked at the information supplied by her mother.

“That was you?”  Daniella asked, obviously pleased. 

“Guilty.”  Kat replied with another piercing laugh.  She sidled close to Daniella and lifted her onto her hip as if it were the most common thing in the world. 

Root hardly noticed.  She was still having a staring contest with Shaw. 

“Did you like them?”  Kat asked Daniella in a voice a little higher than usual, as if she were used to talking to infants rather than children that could talk back.  Daniella nodded eagerly. 

“Beaucoup!  Sah-meen and me both ate them.”  Daniella exclaimed. 

At the mention of her name, Shaw blinked and turned her head.  She was surprised that Daniella would mention her, given her recent behavior.  Root also turned, equally surprised.

“I’m glad you all enjoyed them.”  Kat said, practically beaming at the little family…even if she seemed to exclude Shaw from that intimate circle. 

“Was there something you wanted?”  Shaw asked suddenly, already feeling a headache coming on from the limited exposure she had had to this woman and her insufferable laugh. 

“Oh, no.  Not really…just to let you know that everyone’s agreed to come to the party on Friday.”  Kat said with a wink as if the information were confidential. 

“Oh, so soon.”  Root seemed to pale a little. 

“Of course, everyone is so excited.”  Kat said, giggling with Daniella.  “They’re all _dying_ with curiosity.  I’m just lucky I met you first.”  Kat tweaked Daniella’s nose, making her laugh.   

“Do you…want your basket back?”  Root asked.  Shaw could see she was desperately trying to get the woman out of their house. 

“Oh no, you keep it.  I just wanted to pop over and tell you Friday, 4 o’clock.”  Kat said, still playing with Daniella. 

Root nodded. 

“Four o’clock.”  She repeated.  

Shaw rolled her eyes and stepped up to the woman.  She held out her hands for the child. 

“Great, now you’ve told us—”  Shaw wasn’t in the least surprised that the child recoiled and reached in the completely opposite direction, for Root. 

Root hurried forward and took Daniella, feeling her heart sink again.  She could feel Kat’s calculating stare…and something like joy at a new discovery flicker behind her green eyes…The woman knew the value of information, even the smallest detail, like a child loving one parent more than the other. 

“Thank you for coming over, Kat.”  Root managed. 

Daniella had wrapped her arms around Root’s neck and held onto her tightly. 

“I’ll walk you out.”  Shaw said icily.  She gave Root one final cold stare as she practically marched their visitor to the door. 

Root rocked Daniella back and forth, keeping her good ear turned toward the half-counter so she could hear everything. 

"Some troubles adjusting?”  Kat asked in a conspiratorial whisper. 

Root heard the door open. 

“Nothing we can’t handle.”  Shaw said evenly, though even to Root, her voice sounded strained.

“I understand…motherhood does take it’s toll.”  Kat said as if she were talking to a disciple rather than a complete stranger.  

“It’s what Samantha wants.”  Shaw said stiffly. 

“Yes.  Putting a strain on the marriage, I see.”  Kat observed, obviously hungry for more information.    

“We will see you on Friday.  Thanks for stopping by.”  Shaw said flatly. 

Root heard Kat start to say goodbye, but the door shut quite suddenly.  Root kept her face turned away as Shaw came back into the kitchen. 

“You didn’t have to be rude.”  Root said immediately. 

“She shouldn’t have been so nosy.”  Shaw snapped back. 

“You are the one who keeps saying we have to live by our cover, and our cover is a happy family that just moved away from the city to focus on _our family_.  People who do that try to build relationships, not kick people out of their homes.”  Root explained hotly. 

“How would you know that?  You just told me five minutes ago that computers make more sense to you than people.”  Shaw pointed out. 

Root bit back her reply and turned away from Shaw. 

“Ella, are you ready for a bath?”  Root asked as she left the kitchen. 

“It’s two in the afternoon, Root.”  Shaw pointed out, confused at the change in tact. 

Daniella lifted her head and wriggled around to have one leg on either side so she could gaze up into her mother’s face. 

“Pleures-tu encore?”  Daniella inquired, cocking her head to one side.  Root shook her head fiercely as she crossed the living room and started up the stairs.

“No, baby.  I’m not, I promise.”  Root lied. 

She wasn’t sure why she was reacting this way.  She could usually take Shaw at her worst and shrug off her cutting comments with no problem—she usually even enjoyed bantering with Shaw, because even at her most frustrating or belligerent, Shaw was never cruel.  Not even when she pushed Root and her helpless affection away.  Something about Shaw’s impenetrable defense had always fascinated Root, though she was often bruised and diverted for her trouble.  But never before had Root felt truly hurt by anything Shaw had said or done…it was because her own defense was usually quite strong on its own.  But now she felt worn down to nothing, vulnerable and useless.  Shaw was right…she was only in the way on this mission, she was making all sorts of mistakes. 

Daniella reached up and brushed away one of the tears that wasn’t there and hugged her mother tightly as Root reached the top of the stairs. 

“I love you, mommy.”  Daniella whispered into Root’s shirt front.  Root nudged the bathroom door open with her foot and slipped inside, leaning back against the wood with a sigh as she closed it behind her. 

“And I love you, Ella bird…you are the best worst mistake I ever made.” 


	17. Chapter 17

There was trouble in the air.  Tension.  Stubborn frustration and wounded pride. 

A stony silence had fallen over 314 Walnut Lane.

Not that Shaw minded.  It was actually a relief to have some peace and quiet after such an eventful morning.  It gave Shaw the opportunity to re-acquaint herself with the beautiful kitchen—and this time she could actually use all of the stainless steel toys and appliances now that they had a decent amount of food in the house. 

Shaw was more than content to give herself over to the busy work of making herself a few gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches while simultaneously pushing all thoughts of Root and the kid from her mind.  She had no interest in dwelling too long over anything Root had said.  It was the past and it was important so long as it pertained to the mission, but Shaw didn’t want to run the risk of stirring up old feelings again—Root’s of course, not her own. 

Shaw had needed to know about Daniella, but everything else, everything about _Root_ was just—too much. 

Root had always been a crazy mystery to Shaw, her behavior erratic and reckless, her manner witty and deadly, and her relationship with the Machine complicated and symbiotic.  But who she was, to Shaw, had always been a fierce presence.  She was always there—like a thorn in her side or an infection of the blood—even when she wasn’t physically right _there_.  Who Root was before…that was something that could change the way she felt under Shaw’s skin.  And that was something that made Shaw uneasy. 

Shaw liked their casual loathing that was sometimes—very _rarely_ —put on hold for brief missions.  Truces, really.  They had an understanding that didn’t require any messy feelings or attachments.  Root wasn’t even officially part of the team, like John or Harold or Bear—so Shaw didn’t feel obligated to… _care_ too terribly much about what happened to her. 

Even if it was happening anyway.  Slowly. 

It wasn’t even an obligation anymore…it just happened.

Shaw gripped the sides of the counter hard enough to turn her knuckles white and forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly while she struggled for a moment to rid herself of these thoughts. 

It was _nice_ to be in the kitchen, alone with the food.

It was nice to have a few minutes away from Root and all _that_ headache.

Shaw frowned and glanced at the clock again, surprised to see that more time had passed than she’d realized.  Who the hell takes an hour and a half bath in the middle of the afternoon? 

Shaw scowled and stalked from the kitchen.  The house was far too quiet, but Shaw would be damned if she let Root goad her into checking up on her.  She just knew that Root would somehow find a way to bring up their petty argument from before and Shaw was not about to let that stretch on indefinitely.  And she wasn’t about to apologize either.  She swore they were fighting about _nothing_ now.  Every interaction was a trap, every conversation was laced with hidden minefields and no matter how lightly Shaw tread, she always seemed to set them off. 

Shaw flopped down on the couch with a huff and turned on the television—turned it up _loud_.  She bit into her sandwich and moaned at the explosion of flavor from the spread she’d chosen.  It wasn’t exactly a Beatrice Lillie, but it was still _good_. 

Better than those damn breakfast muffins at least.

Not three minutes into the game, Shaw heard a door open and close and she smirked as she took another bite of her sandwich.  Shaw was determined to ignore Root until the other woman spoke first, to give her some clue as to what they’d be yelling about now—but when Shaw turned her head, impatient, she almost choked on her thick Artisan bread, white cheddar cheeses, caramelized onions, and savory rosemary butter.

Daniella was looking directly at Shaw as she took tentative steps down the stairs, both feet touching every single step.  She was moving at a glacial pace, hugging the banister as if it were a substitute for a safety blanket or some other nonsense.  It was a strange kind of dance and Shaw couldn’t bring herself to look away. 

One of the teams onscreen scored, and Shaw could hear the stadium audiences cheering right along with the announcers, but she didn’t bother to check the score.  It wasn't exactly a fair match-up anyway. 

Daniella had reached the bottom step by now, but she hesitated. Shaw was a little unnerved by the way the girl continued to look at her as if waiting for permission of some kind.  The child’s wet hair had been combed and braided down her back, no longer covering her little ears that stuck out from her head now, and she was wearing a different outfit than before—a green and yellow top and overalls.

Shaw cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes. 

“Well?  What do you want?”  Shaw demanded. 

The girl took a quick breath and pointed wordlessly. 

Shaw frowned and glanced at the wall, to where she assumed Daniella was pointing.  Shaw hadn’t noticed that the bookshelf held all sorts of art supplies and board games.

The room was filled with more cheers as the football went through the uprights—the field goal was good. 

Shaw swallowed and got to her feet.  She went to the shelf and picked up board game—it was called ‘Clue’. 

“Is this what you want?”  Shaw asked, looking back at the girl. 

Daniella shook her head.

“Okay—what about this one?”  Shaw asked.  She took up a box with a strange looking hippo on the front. 

Daniella shook her head again. 

Shaw frowned and shoved the box back into its cubbie.  There were just too many options.  There were at least a dozen games all stacked up neatly—all of this for one kid?

“Do you even want a game?  Or do you want to play with these scissors or something—?”  Shaw huffed in frustration. 

Shaw was startled to feel a tugging at her side and when she glanced down, Daniella was standing right at her side.  The child had her lower lip caught between her teeth and she blinked up Shaw, unafraid, as she pointed to the adjacent cubbie. 

“Can I have some colors, please?”  Daniella asked.

Shaw shrugged her shoulders and retrieved the small pack of crayons.  She handed it to the girl and then stuck her hands in her pockets. 

“Merci.”  Daniella said brightly, flashing Shaw a toothy grin. 

Shaw glanced up toward the upstairs landing and then back again to the girl. 

“You’re welcome.”  Shaw said gruffly. 

Daniella continued to smile and Shaw glanced away. 

“Are you—Daniella, are you hungry?”  Shaw asked.  She really had no idea what possessed her to ask such a thing except that the more she thought about it she realized the kid hadn’t had anything to eat since this morning. 

“J’ai un peu faim.”  Daniella admitted.

Shaw’s eye twitched.  She would have preferred a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’.    

“I made grilled cheese.”  Shaw said simply.   

“I like grilled cheese.”  Daniella said cheerily as she went to the coffee table.  She sat down primly on her knees and opened up her box of crayons.  Daniella took out the red crayon and lifted it to observe from every angle, her eyebrows furrowed with concentration.  Shaw thought maybe she should mention that her gun was currently taped under that very coffee table, the barrel pointing toward Daniella…but she decided against it. 

Besides, the safety was on. 

“So…would you like some grilled cheese?”  Shaw prompted. 

The child glanced up at that, her concentration giving away almost immediately to delight. 

“Yes!”  Daniella had hardly let out this exclamation before her smile dimmed and she looked over her shoulder almost frightfully.  Shaw glanced up at the landing as well, but it remained empty.  Root was nowhere to be seen. 

When Shaw glanced down again, the child was crooking her finger to ask Shaw to come closer.  Shaw rolled her eyes and leaned down stiffly so the child could whisper in her ear. 

“I don’t want Kat to eat with us.”  Daniella whispered confidentially. 

Shaw frowned.

“Why would she eat with us?  She doesn’t even live here.”  Shaw pointed out. 

Daniella frowned and looked at Shaw with what could only be described as derision, which was odd to see in such a young face. 

“She was being really nice to Mommy.”  Daniella said pointedly.  “Nicer than you.” 

Shaw frowned and rubbed at the side of her mouth as she glanced once more at the coffee table to ensure that her weapon was in reach…maybe she would need it sooner than she thought, for nosy neighbors.

Just then Shaw heard Root calling for the girl, but for the first time since Shaw had known her, the kid didn’t immediately drop everything and run off to answer her mother’s call.

“She’s sad.”  Daniella said flatly to Shaw.  “You made her sad.” 

Shaw wished she could pretend she didn’t know who Daniella was talking about, but she couldn’t quite escape the earnest look in the child’s eyes.  Shaw frowned and glanced up once again. 

“You should say you’re sorry to my mommy.”  Daniella sniffed. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and glanced down at the kid.

“What if I just made her grilled cheese instead?” 

Daniella didn’t even dignify such a suggestion with a response.  She simply huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Look…why don’t you go give her a hug?  That’s what R—what your mommy needs when she’s sad.”  Shaw suggested with a sigh, the word ‘mommy’ had almost choked her. 

For Shaw, sadness wasn’t something she felt, but she knew Root did.  Root needed comfort in the ‘normal’ way.  Physical contact.  Words of encouragement.  Love.  Even if Shaw couldn’t give her those things, she was glad Daniella could…because she did care.  In her own way.  She didn’t really know what she’d done this time to upset Root, but she also knew the specifics didn’t actually matter.  A sad or depressed Root was even more difficult to work with than the usual perky psycho she got stuck with…and this mission was already going to hell. 

Shaw didn’t want to make it worse.    

Daniella shot Shaw one last glance and then darted to the stairs, no doubt to take Shaw’s advice and deliver the hug that would maybe cut the tension in the house.  Shaw waited, not daring to breathe until she heard Root laugh. 

It was a sign that Daniella was chasing away the dark mood and brightening Root’s day, which was something Shaw just couldn’t seem to do.    


	18. Chapter 18

Root could feel Shaw watching her throughout the rest of the day.  There was something about it, something in the way Shaw looked at her—something that told her Shaw was waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce…to demand answers.  _The rest of the story_. 

Because as much as she tried to hide it, Root knew Shaw hated feeling unprepared, feeling as if she had only been given _some_ of the information instead of all—which was of course the heart of the problem. 

Root had promised to tell Shaw everything, and Shaw always held her to her promises. 

This time would be no exception.

Root knew she couldn’t avoid it anymore, not since Shaw had said Harold and the big lug were still turning up so little in their search for whoever was after her daughter.  And especially not now that it felt as if their cover was hanging by a thread.  It looked like they would be stuck out in Flower Hill indefinitely…and the longer she put it off, the moodier and angrier Shaw would be. 

Root finished rummaging around in the pantry and turned around triumphantly, holding her prize aloft. 

“Found one.” 

She smiled as Daniella squealed and clapped her hands. 

Root unscrewed the lid of the jar and passed it to Daniella while she went into the garage and selected a screw driver that weighed perfectly in her hand. 

“Est-ce assez grand?”  Daniella asked as she held the jar carefully between her palms. 

The child stood in the doorway, not so eager to step into the large, empty garage.

Root nodded as she jammed the lid into the vice-grip and punched in a few holes. 

“I think so, don’t you?”  She asked after she had finished. 

Daniella nodded enthusiastically.  Root smiled and took the jar back from Daniella, slipping the lid back on without screwing it down tight.  Root gestured toward the back patio.

“Well, what are you waiting for?  Let’s go.” 

Daniella grinned and turned eagerly to skip through the house to the sliding doors.  Root started to follow, but paused in the kitchen.  She fumbled her pocket-knife from her back pocket and stabbed one of the red apples from the fruit bowl before stepping out after her daughter into the soft glow of dusk.  She sat down carefully on the steps of the deck and watched Daniella run down to the grass with a big grin on her face. 

Root kept an eye on Daniella as she took a bite of her apple, almost moaning as the juices slid over her tongue. 

She loved apples. 

Root wiped at her mouth and squinted out at the large yard, surprised that there was so much space.  There was a swing set to the right and a playhouse situated between two bushes a little further away. 

Daniella ran toward the bushes, where the first of the fireflies were just starting to appear. 

Root waited, knowing any moment now her peace would be broken.

“Be gentle, Ella bird.”  Root called as Daniella tried to capture a firefly. 

Root didn’t hear the doors slide open, but she felt the rhythm in the wood as Shaw padded toward her. 

Shaw sat beside Root without a word. 

Root glanced down and cut a slice from her apple.  She handed it to Shaw, but it was in no way a peace offering. 

“Mommy!  Mommy, look!”  Daniella came running across the yard, holding her left arm at an awkward angle.  She showed Root the firefly that had landed there and seemed content to remain stationary while the child gawked. 

“Very good, Ella bird.  Shall we put him in your jar?”  Root asked. 

Daniella nodded eagerly, and watched with fascination as her mother shepherded the little bug into the jar without much fuss at all. 

Root put the lid on the jar, but didn’t screw it down.  She indicated the yard with her chin. 

“Why don’t you go catch some of his friends?”  Root suggested. 

Daniella nodded and darted off again. 

Root smiled as she watched her.  She kept the jar balanced on her knee and she took another bite from her apple. 

“You didn’t want her, did you?”  Shaw finally broke the silence. 

Root didn’t move. 

“You didn’t want her, and then you felt guilty about it.”  Shaw guessed. 

Root sighed and set her apple down.  The light was fading slowly, but Root didn’t even have to look at Shaw to know her expression. 

“I thought it was my fault.”  Root said to the jar on her knee.  The firefly inside seemed to wink at her. 

Beside her, Shaw stiffened, unable to account for the sudden resurgence of that strange new feeling that pulsed fiercely in her veins.    

“Root, victim blame is not a healthy—”

“You know about the placebo effect?”  Root interrupted a little sharply.  Shaw sighed and crossed one ankle over the other as she leaned back on her forearms. 

“I _was_ in med-school, you know.  Of course I know about the placebo effect…mind over matter.  It’s all bogus.”  Shaw said. 

Root nodded, lifting her eyes to stare out at the yard where Daniella was still laughing and chasing little blinking lights. 

“Did you know the opposite of the placebo effect is—”

“The nocebo effect.  Yeah, I told you, Root, it’s all…”

“You’re right, Shaw.  I didn’t want her.  I didn’t want anything to do with her…”  Root interrupted.  Root spoke solemnly, her whole body tense as the memory threatened to wash over her.  She clenched her jaw.

“I didn’t want her and it was as if that thought had poisoned her…I doomed her before she even had a chance.”  Root whispered. 

Shaw frowned and shifted her position slightly. 

“What are you talking about, Root?” 

Shaw had learned early on that Root often times didn’t make a lot of sense.  Usually, Shaw would just ignore her.  But this was important, and Shaw needed to know everything.  She couldn’t let Root get away with being coy just to avoid the real problem. 

Root blinked and looked down at Shaw as if suddenly remembering she was there.

“She came early.”  Root said bluntly. 

“Premature?”  Shaw asked for clarification, surprised.  Root’s daughter seemed so healthy, vibrant.  Not what Shaw would expect from one born premature.

Root nodded.  “22 weeks.  Her first twelve weeks were spent in intensive care…”  Root said softly, frowning when she felt her heart twist because the memories refused to stay away. 

“The max is usually ten.”  Shaw said flatly. 

Root kept her eyes trained on her daughter dancing across the lawn. 

She knew very well that most premature babies were only hospitalized for a few weeks, very rarely did it extend to months…the nurses hadn’t been helpful, but Root’s own research had told her everything she had needed to know.  She had realized very quickly that her baby was very sick.  In fact, Root had come to believe she would never know the luxury of seeing her child healthy in those early days…sometimes her nightmares were still haunted by the voices of the doctors over the old, crinkly PA system that diced the voices up into broken segments, calling for more of this or that, calling her daughter to this checkup or that recovery room, sending nurses to one floor or another…it was why she preferred the Machine to speak to her through musical tones or hard code.  Numbers.  Digits.  The things that were true and un-fragmentable. 

“She caught me by surprise.  I was in France for a job and…I wasn’t prepared.”  Root said softly.  “I had planned to give her up and then walk away regardless…but then she was so… _small_.  I was afraid to touch her, even though the nurses said she needed as much skin on skin contact as she could get…I couldn’t do it.  Her bones were so fragile and her immune system was so weak…and she got so sick.  She fought so hard to stay alive, and I couldn’t just leave her…I couldn’t do it.  I stayed.  I sang to her.”  Root admitted. 

“Mommy! J’en ai eu un!”  Daniella’s voice pierced through the quiet of the evening. 

Root lifted her head and smiled. 

“Merveilleux!”  Root called as Daniella came running. 

“Here, Ella bird, put him in the jar…there you go.  Very good.”  Root whispered as she helped guide Daniella’s hands. 

“She.  This one’s Maggie.”  Daniella said as she tried to get the firefly to let go of her finger and drop down into the jar.  The child’s entire face was taunt with concentration. 

“That’s a good name for a firefly.”  Root said as she brushed a leaf from Daniella’s shoulder. 

Daniella’s eyebrows furrowed together and she squinted at the two fireflies in the jar.

“Can they breathe, Mommy?”  Daniella asked, looking up anxiously. 

“They have plenty of air; it’s more about humidity…if you cut holes in the top, they’ll dry out too quickly.”  Shaw said, indicating the jar. 

Both Daniella and Root turned to look at her. 

“Not a lot of people know that…it’s important.”  Shaw defended with a shrug.

“They’ll die?”  Daniella asked, concerned as she eyed the holes in the lid.   

“Ella, why don’t you go catch a few more?  I’ll fix it.”  Root reassured her daughter. 

Daniella nodded and darted off, eager to please. 

Root stood stiffly and walked across the deck, back into the house, holding the jar close to her chest.  It was getting dark now, but she could still see as she went back into the pantry to look for another lid.  Root could feel Shaw darkening the doorway behind her, but she didn’t acknowledge her until she had found what she was looking for.    

“Catch a lot of fireflies in your day, Shaw?”  Root asked as she turned. 

Shaw was leaning against the doorframe, slicing into the remains of Root’s apple.  Root blinked and walked around Shaw, crossing to the kitchen counter where she was going to swap out the lids.  She set down the jar that blinked sporadically and chanced a glance through the window, suddenly realizing that if Shaw had followed her inside, Daniella was out there alone.   

“My father always called them lightning bugs.”  Shaw said as she came to lean against the counter near Root.  She turned her head to look more directly at Root.  “I’m surprised your Machine didn’t tell you that.” 

“She’s been…quiet lately.”  Root said, averting her eyes.  She pretended to focus on her task. 

Shaw frowned.  She knew Root relied on the Machine the way some people relied on the weather report or perhaps maybe something even more important…Root had come to depend on the Machine in ways Shaw didn’t like to think about…which meant when the Machine went dark, Root suffered. 

Shaw cleared her throat and stopped Root before she could put the new lid on the jar.  Shaw caught Root’s eye as she dropped in two apple slices.  The sound they made as they plopped down against the glass bottom filled the silence.  The fireflies were crawling along the sides of the jar, and their glow lit up Root’s face for a moment. 

Shaw glanced away.

“Don’t screw it on too tight.”  Shaw coached as Root replaced the lid of the jar. 

Root glanced up, but Shaw wouldn’t meet her eyes.    

“So…you stayed with Daniella in the hospital while she was in NICU?”  Shaw asked when the silence started to grate against her skin.  Root took a moment to consider her answer.

Root wasn’t one to usually deny Shaw.  In fact, she often snatched up whatever the ex-marine would give her—which wasn’t much.  The faintest of smiles masked by an eye roll, that glance over the shoulder to make sure Root was following, the occasional brush of arms as they walked side by side…little things that most people take for granted.  They were the stars that lit Root’s otherwise very dark and dreary life…not that working for the Machine was dull or depressing.  But Root had a very clear picture as to where it was all headed, how the war was faring…and without Shaw she may have been tempted to give up any semblance of a ‘normal’ human life and become completely engrossed in her role as Analogue Interface, allowing herself to become more machine than human…more concerned for the machine’s survival than how the human race fared.

Only—she had to care about how the human race fared now.  For Daniella's sake.

That was the great irony of it. 

Root had been _so ready_ to give up everything for her God.  And yet here she was, trapped in suburbia, with the two people the Machine wouldn’t let her lose. 

“Yes, I stayed…but you know what was so terrible?”  Root’s eyes darted up to the window again to lock on Daniella, even if she was seeing something from far away and a long time ago.  “Part of me wanted her to stop breathing.  For her kidneys to fail.  For the pneumonia to fill her lungs with too much fluid.  No one knew if she would make it, and even if she did…I wasn’t sure if I could find a decent place for her.  No one wants a baby with so many health problems, a baby that can fit in the palm of your hand if you unhooked her from all the machines and took her out of her incubation tent.”  Root couldn’t see Shaw’s expression. 

She really didn’t want to.

“But you did find a decent place, Root.  The Christensons…it seems like they were good for her.” 

Shaw wasn’t sure if she was qualified to make such an assessment, granted that she had only seen the hotel room the family had stayed in and had no actual knowledge of their life before the terrible events that had claimed the lives of Klaus and his wife. 

Root nodded, though, as if what Shaw said was true. 

“They were good people.”  Root whispered.  “I researched them thoroughly.  I hacked their personal emails and phones.  I sabotaged Klaus’s farming business just to see how he would handle stress, I kept a record of their finances and their histories.  Both Klaus and Reeta demonstrated a broad intellect and a rather liberal point of view…they had both spent their youth traveling the world, Reeta with the Peace Corps, Klaus working for the UN for awhile.  They had very open minds, were well-educated, but had chosen to settle down to a simple life of simple pleasures, which was perfect because I knew I wanted Daniella to be taken far away from the U.S…” 

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

“Was that for her protection, or to curb temptation?”  Shaw asked. 

Root shrugged and finally found the courage to step out of the kitchen and go back outside, where darkness was falling and the fireflies danced over her daughter’s head.

“Both.”  Root said as she slid the doors open once more. 

“I knew I wanted to keep her away from my demons at any cost.  My alias at the time was a French national, and so I gave her a French name to keep up the façade…” 

“Why Kathleen?”  Shaw asked suddenly. 

Root hesitated as she waited for Shaw to step through so she could close the doors again. 

Shaw stood planted just outside the doors, waiting. 

Root avoided looking Shaw directly in the eye.  She considered lying, but almost immediately decided against it.  There would be no point in lying to Shaw.  It would only complicate the mission, and they really didn't need that.

Besides, Root had promised to tell her partner everything.   

“Klaus always told people there was a nurse who looked after Daniella in the NICU…Kathleen D’armont…”  Root said as she went to sit back down on the patio steps. 

She waited for Shaw to sit beside her again, holding her knees and watching the two fireflies explore the apple slices that now sat at the bottom of the jar as she thought back to that time, to all the things she had tried to forget.

“But why did _you_ call her that?”  Shaw demanded, seeing through Root’s deflection easily.  Root tensed, locking her arms more tightly around her knees.

“It was my mother’s name.”  Root said carefully. 

Shaw nodded as if this information didn’t surprise her.   

“Did she know?  About Daniella?”  Shaw asked. 

Root sighed and tugged at the hem of her summer dress, trying to distract herself as she considered how to answer. 

“No.  She didn’t.  My mother didn’t take a very…hands-on approach to motherhood even when I lived with her.  She never took much interest in me, and didn’t seem to mind at all when I left home—She didn’t miss me much.  She never tried to reach me.  I only learned of her death by chance the last time I visited Hanna’s…”  Root trailed off, her eyes becoming slightly unfocused for a moment. 

“Grave?”  Shaw supplied. 

Root continued to watch Daniella chasing fireflies…her mind finding a small refuge in memories not so dark…of nights under the hazy Texas sky as she and Hanna chased the same little insects with the same kind of wonder. 

Root smiled sadly. 

“Yes.  She does have a grave now.  Thanks to John.  And Carter.”  Root said, her eyes beaming even if her smile remained small.  She would always be grateful to Jocelyn Carter and consider her a fallen hero…she owed her so much.  Shaw eyed Root for a moment and then glanced once more toward the kid out on the lawn. 

 “I thought you didn’t want your life to touch Daniella at all.”  Shaw started slowly. 

“It doesn’t.  Daniella cannot be traced to my mother.  Samantha Groves disappeared years ago and there is no one left to look for her.  My mother was never particularly proud of me…most of her drinking buddies and distant friends didn’t even know she had a daughter.”

“Is that because you were…well, _are_ gay?”  Shaw asked, raising an eyebrow.  “Is it another Texas thing?” 

Shaw knew she had guessed right when Root immediately stiffened. 

“Do you think someone has decided that Daniella Kathleen Christenson of Porvoo, Finland is somehow related to Kathleen Arlo Groves of Bishop, Texas?  Is that the mistake you think I made?”  Root asked flatly. 

Shaw frowned. 

“No, Root.  That’s not it at all…it’s just—Are you sure?  Are you _absolutely_ sure…that no one can connect you to her?  That there is no link between Samantha or Kathleen Groves and Marguerite or…”

“I was careful, Shaw…though your concern is touching.”  Root said with a flirtatious smile in Shaw’s direction. 

Shaw pretended she couldn’t see it in the dark and turned her head. 

Root shrugged and drummed her fingers absently along the curves of the glass jar, finally starting to relax despite the subject matter.

“Let’s just say Root was _very_ active during the months that Marguerite and her daughter spent in the NICU…causing havoc in Madrid, Singapore, Montreal…and Detroit, just for fun.”  Root said with an even broader smile.  S

haw’s mouth twitched as she fought off a smile of her own…she was just glad to see Root coming back to herself.  Shaw raised an eyebrow instead, daring Root to explain. 

“The hospital had great Wifi.  And I couldn’t very well risk any potential clients thinking I was down for the count.  I made sure Root was all over the globe.  Trust me, Shaw.  I was Marguerite in the hospital with Daniella, but Root was off doing something else entirely.  Their lives don’t intersect.”  Root said with conviction. 

Shaw just rolled her eyes. 

She knew better than to question Root’s computer skills.  If she said the hacker and Marguerite could never be connected, Shaw would have to grudgingly believe her.

“If you had such a great time in France, why didn’t you…”  Shaw stopped when she saw Root make a face and she tilted her head, asking without actually asking for Root to explain herself.

“They may have had great Wifi, but don’t be fooled Shaw…I _hated_ France.  It was so backward and the air wasn’t clean and it just wasn’t a good place for Daniella.”  Root explained with finality.

“But _Finland_?”  Shaw asked with a smirk when Root rolled her eyes. 

“Do your research, Sameen.”  Root scolded with an exasperated eye roll and toss of her curls.

“Finland has been named one of the top ten safest places to live for over ten years.  They have clean air and water, midnight suns and a pretty good health care system…they’re innovative in educational reform…”  Root explained, talking with her free hand when she could. 

Shaw snorted and took up the jar from Root’s knee to look at the specimens kept inside.    

“And you know this because you visited…didn’t you.  You just couldn’t stay away.”  Shaw said, smirking at the way Root’s face paled when she was confronted with it. 

“I stayed away for three years.”  Root said in a small voice. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and set the jar back down between them. 

"Three years wasn’t enough, Root.  If you wanted her to grow up safe and ignorant you never should have gone back for her…you should have let her think you were dead.”  Shaw said flatly. 

“They could have told her I was dead.  I told them they could tell Daniella whatever they wanted about me, that I was a wicked, heartless person if they wanted to…I made it clear that I would never come looking for her.  I left no way to reach me, no information other than a false name, no note, no pictures, no trinkets, nothing.”  Root spoke as if she had a bad taste in her mouth.  Shaw frowned and tapped her fingers along the edge of the wooden step.

“But something changed.  And you went to see her.”  Shaw said brusquely. 

Root was quiet for a long moment.  When she did speak again, her voice was quiet--almost as if she were speaking more to herself than Shaw.  

“At first I didn’t understand why, but…I think She wanted to prove a point…a lesson.”     

Shaw felt her insides go a little cold— _She?_

 _“The Machine sent you?”_ Shaw demanded through gritted teeth.

 _Of course_ this all went back to the Machine messing with their personal lives.  It explained so much.

And by _so much_ , Shaw meant _absolutely nothing_.

Root nodded, dropping her chin down to her knees.  She remained unaware of Shaw’s discomfort.

“When I first found the Machine, I did things for Her because I believed in Her…that was it.  But, She wanted me to care.  About people…the way She does.  So she sent me on several missions to make me see that every life matters, that what I’ve done…there are consequences and helping people is just as important as stopping the people who do bad things.  Jason Greenfield, Cyrus…she sent me to all of them, and when She thought I was ready, She sent me to Finland for Daniella.”  Root explained. 

“The Christensons had been teaching Daniella French because they thought…well, because Marguerite is French.  But the longer I stayed…they knew I was lying.  And they didn’t confront me or send me away.  They let me…into Daniella’s life even when I warned them I wouldn’t be staying and I might never come back.”

“But you did go back.”  Shaw said without feeling. 

Root nodded.

“Five times.  Never for very long…a few days…once, it was just a moment in the park, I pushed her on the swings…but nothing I did ever seemed to hurt Ella’s spirit.  She was always happy to see me.  And she never fought me when I told her I had to go away again.”  Root said. 

Shaw rolled her neck from side to side and sat up.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll grow out of that.”  Shaw murmured. 

Root glanced up sharply, but then bit her tongue and didn’t comment.  She knew Shaw had a point.  Someday, Daniella would probably hate her for everything she had put her through. 

And Root wouldn’t blame her if she did.

“And Daniella’s…the man.  The one who hurt you.  There’s no way his family or friends could have found out he’d fathered a child?”  Shaw asked. 

Root frowned.

“I can’t speak for his records, Shaw.  If someone were to look into his death it is possible they might discover that he did business with me…but Root has no family, Shaw.  None of any kind.  Most of my online associates don’t even know that I’m a woman.”  Root said with a shrug. 

Shaw started to say something else, but Root straightened suddenly as Daniella came toward them.  She was walking a little stiffly, her hands clasped before her.  Her whole face was lit with an impish grin.

“Ella?  What do you have there?”  Root called.

“A big bunch, Mommy!”  Daniella whispered as she held her hands out to Root. 

Root could see that there was indeed a strong light pulsing inside the secret cavern between her daughter’s palms. 

Root smiled as she took Daniella’s hands. 

“You’re right…there are quite a few in there.  I think we may need Sameen’s help this time.”  Root said, nudging Shaw with her knee. 

Shaw rolled her eyes, but picked up the jar.  She took off the lid, but quickly covered the opening with her hand to keep the two trapped fireflies in. 

“Okay, you’re going to have to be quick, Ella.”  Root murmured as she guided Daniella’s hands over to the jar, to rest just above Shaw’s hand.  “On the count of three, you’re going to open your hands, and Sameen and I will try to help you keep the fireflies from escaping, okay?” 

Root looked at her daughter for some form of visual confirmation. 

Daniella nodded solemnly. 

“Okay.  One…”  Root could feel Daniella’s pulse just beneath where she lightly touched her skin.  It was strong.  Healthy.  Healthy and happy. 

“Two…”  Root glanced at Shaw. 

Shaw’s expression was just as stoic as always…but for once it didn’t seem quite so indifferent or cold. 

Root smiled slightly.

“Three.” 

Shaw pulled her hand away just as Daniella opened her hands and turned her palms toward the opening of the jar.  Root and Shaw both cupped their own hands over Daniella’s to keep the little bugs from crawling back up her arms. 

Daniella squealed and Root laughed. 

Even Shaw cracked a smile as they tried to fill the jar. 

“Are they happy in there?”  Daniella asked as she leaned very close to the jar that Root held.  There were over a dozen fireflies in there now.  Root shrugged and held the jar out to Daniella.

“I don’t know, Ella bird. They have all their friends in there with them...they look pretty happy to me.”  Root said. 

Daniella frowned and took the jar.  She held it it reverently.

“Time for bed, Daniella.  Come on, let’s put your jar right next to your bed.”  Root put a hand on Daniella’s shoulder and steered her up the patio steps toward the doors. 

Night had fallen, and the light from the fireflies set Daniella’s face aglow while the rest of the yard was bathed in darkness. 

“They’re not friends.”  Daniella said mostly to the jar. 

Root glanced at her daughter as she slid the doors back for her.  Shaw was standing a few steps back.

“Oh?”  Root asked. 

“They’re family.  Maggie has all of her brothers and sisters and cousins in there with her.”  Daniella explained.

“That’s nice.  Ella, why don’t you go on up and your mother will be right up after you.”  Shaw interjected before Root could say anything. 

Root raised an eyebrow, surprised that Daniella obeyed without protest.  Root glanced at Shaw.

“Is something else bothering you, Shaw?”  Root asked warily. 

Shaw didn’t move. 

“His name, Root.  I need his name.”  Shaw said. 

Root instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. 

“I told you, Shaw, he’s dead.  I don’t see why…”

“You also said Daniella can’t be traced to you.  If that’s true, then the threat had to come from either the Christensons or whoever is recorded as Daniella’s birth parents.  Finch can’t find any enemies for Klaus or Reeta.”  Shaw explained. 

“His name isn’t on the birth certificate, Shaw.  I erased him completely.”  Root insisted. 

Shaw took a sharp breath and took a step closer, her eyes dark but not cold. 

“Root…” 

Root froze at the tone…it was almost _soft_. 

Shaw came dangerously close to Root, close enough to make Root think maybe she was dreaming. 

“Please.”  Shaw whispered in that same soft, almost _intimate_ voice. 

Root shivered and closed her eyes, accepting the inevitable.

“Lambert.  His name was Franklin Lambert.”   


	19. Chapter 19

7:50 am

Shaw sat stiffly at the half-counter.  She tapped her gun against her thigh impatiently.  Her coffee mug sat empty in front of her, and the slow drip of new brew in the coffee maker seemed to mock her.  She had hardly gotten any sleep last night.  Her brain had been working overtime, processing everything Root had told her and plaguing her with a new host of doubts and potentially lethal situations.  She had even slipped into an almost dream for a few moments that had a dangerous gang from Detroit crashing through the front door to take revenge on Root…that was why Shaw could do without dreams for now.  They were even less than enormously unhelpful. 

Shaw practically shot off of her stool when she finally heard the door upstairs creak open and the soft padding of Root’s slippers on the stairs. 

“Morning.”  Root mumbled with a yawn as she shuffled into the kitchen.  She went straight to the coffee maker, snagging Shaw’s mug as she walked by. 

Shaw swiveled on her stool and cut right to the chase. 

“I have to go into the city.”  Shaw announced. 

Root slowly turned back to Shaw, dropping the granola bar she had taken from the cabinet.  She suddenly didn’t feel very hungry.  She hugged herself as she tried to understand why her heart had started trembling. 

“Is that why you got up so early?  You’re usually pretty grumpy until about…well, all day actually.”  Root said with a smile to mask her rising panic as the coffee finally boiled over and the smell wafted between the two women. 

“I’m serious, Root.  My cover has a job in the city anyway…and I need to meet with Finch and update him.”  Shaw said solemnly, unable to stop herself from making a face as she thought about driving back to the city this early…it was appalling. 

Root took up the mug and turned off the coffee maker.  She traced the rim of the mug with a delicate finger.  She briefly considered asking why Shaw couldn’t just check in over her comm link as she had before, but she dismissed it quickly.  She knew there were times that face to face meetings were necessary, and if Shaw had decided now was one of those times, she wouldn’t question it. 

“If that’s what you think is best.”  Root said to the dark coffee. 

She had known this would happen…that things would be different once she let the truth out.  She had just hoped things wouldn’t be ‘different’ between her and Shaw.  But it seemed she had been naïve to hope. 

Everything was different now. 

She'd told Shaw everything.  And she couldn’t take it back. 

Shaw frowned and passed a hand over her face.

“Root, I’m not going to tell Harold your secret.  I promised you I wouldn’t…”  Shaw started, too grumpy and too tired to fight about this at the moment. 

“I have all faith in you, Sameen.”  Root said with a shrug as she walked across the kitchen and placed the coffee mug in front of Shaw. 

Shaw hardly seemed to notice as she watched Root moving around the kitchen. 

“Look, I just need to let him know we’re okay and pick up a few things from the library.”  Shaw was getting a little agitated. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Sameen.”  Root said causally as she straightened one of the pictures on the wall and crossed by Shaw on her way into the living room.  She didn’t want to have to watch Shaw leave…it felt like a bad omen, and that thought scared her.  She would much rather go back upstairs to Daniella and hold her daughter close for a few more minutes.    

“Well good, because I’m not.”  Shaw said haughtily as she took up her coffee and drank it down in one go. 

Shaw waited, but Root didn't rise to the occasion to argue, which gave Shaw plenty of time to toss her empty mug into the sink with a satisfying clank.

Root had paused only halfway up the stairs.  She cringed when she heard the mug in the sink. 

She couldn't make herself turn away before asking, “Shaw…you will come back…won’t you?”

She wasn’t sure why she suddenly feared this.  Shaw had made it clear from the beginning that she felt this was her mission.  And Root had never once known her to abandon her numbers.  Still…Root wasn’t sure she liked the thought of splitting up.  She knew she could protect Daniella on her own if it became necessary, but having Shaw with her had made her feel even safer...to know there was someone there who could make the tough decisions she couldn’t seem to. 

“Of course I’m coming back.  We’re having steak tonight.”  Shaw said with a shrug. 

She saw Root smile and look down again. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and tugged on her hoodie. 

“We also have Kat’s party tomorrow, so…if you could be back with plenty of time to prepare, that would be great.”  Root prompted. 

Shaw froze.

“What do you mean…’prepare’?”  Shaw demanded. 

Root shrugged. 

“Well, we are going to be going in blind.  It might help to go over our cover again, try to find out what we can about our neighbors ahead of time, plan…”  Root suggested. 

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

“You mean strategize.”  Shaw said icily. 

Root rolled her eyes. 

“Sure, Sameen.  If that’s what you want to call it.” 

“That’s what I am calling it.  I’m in charge, _remember_.”  Shaw huffed. 

Root smiled slyly and came back down the stairs slowly, her eyes getting a little darker.  Shaw had turned away, but Root didn’t mind—she enjoyed watching her from every angle. 

“Of course you are, Sweetie.”  Root said with a smile as Shaw struggled to find the keys to their family car.  She was pulling open drawers and looking under the coffee table. 

“Root, what did you do with the keys to the—“ 

“Check your left boot.”  Root said, crossing her arms over her chest while she watched Shaw fondly.

“Why the hell would they be in my—“

“Just look, Shaw.”  Root said with a smirk as Shaw plopped down angrily on the couch and tugged off her boot, looking quite surprised to see the keys come tumbling out of her black boot. 

Shaw snatched up the keys and glared at Root as she stood and straightened her hoodie. 

“I’m going now.”  Shaw said through gritted teeth. 

She was _not_ going to give Root the satisfaction of asking how the hacker knew where the keys had gotten to.  Shaw was usually a very organized person…well, when it came to her weapons and her food. 

Other things sometimes just got misplaced. 

Root’s eyes were shining with amusement as Shaw brushed past her to go to the door. 

“Oh, and don’t forget to pick up something a little more festive to wear.”  Root said before Shaw could even open the front door. 

“I’m not going to—” 

“It’s a party, Sameen.  We’re going to dress like we’re happy to be there.”  Root said with a smirk. 

Shaw glared.

“I’m not picking up your laundry just so you can—“ 

“She already texted you the address…and just a few more things I need.”  Root said as she smoothed the creases of Shaw’s shoulders.

“Root…”  Shaw growled. 

Root had already pulled the front door open and she smiled sweetly at Shaw as she planted a kiss on her forehead that was completely and totally unnecessary. 

“You better hurry, Sweetie.  Or you’ll be late for work.”  Root said with a wink that didn’t even qualify as a wink in any database. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and turned stiffly to walk out the door. 

“You are enjoying this way too much.”  Shaw muttered as she stepped out into the sunlight. 

Root only smiled as she closed the front door. 

Shaw sighed and fiddled with the keys, blatantly ignoring the friendly wave from one of her ‘neighbors’ who just so happened to be jogging by at that exact moment.  Shaw rolled her eyes as she unlocked the driver side door and slipped into the vehicle.  Almost immediately there was a buzz from somewhere closeby and Shaw’s eyes darted to the cup-holder.  Her phone was perched within reach.  A notification for eight new text messages blared across the screen. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and started the engine. 

“’Just a few more things’ my ass.”  Shaw muttered as she pulled out of the driveway. 

Shaw glanced in the rearview mirror, surprised to see that the street was at least starting to awaken…there was a postman making his rounds and a group of kids playing football in one front yard…and at least two people out trimming hedges.  Shaw glanced at the clock and frowned.  She had an innate hatred of boring suburban life as it was, but now she was doubly sure she wouldn’t survive here if this was her real life…Shaw hated mornings.

Shaw gladly left the drowsy street and pulled into interstate traffic, smiling as she finally met some people she knew how to deal with.  Shaw even smiled as she passed one truck with a load of timber and honked at the Buik in her way.  Shaw reached over to turn on the radio, but whatever semblance of a smile had been forming on her lips drained away as the sound of some awful children’s choir came shrieking through the speakers…a children’s choir singing ‘There’s a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea’.  Shaw switched off the radio, scowling and tightening her grip on the steering wheel.  Now she couldn’t even enjoy feeding other commuters’ road rage. 

Shaw clenched her jaw and reached up to switch on her comm link. 

“Reese.”  Shaw said coldly, breathing angrily as she waited for a response. 

There was some shuffling on the other line, but eventually she heard a muffled yawn.

“Shaw…it’s…8:05.”  Reese said, realizing something must be terribly wrong if Shaw was contacting him this early, before she even had the chance to ignore her 8:15 alarm.

“Yeah.  I know.  Meet me at the shooting range in an hour.”  Shaw said tersely as she passed a slow moving line of cars.

“Westside or Bay Ridge?”  John asked, not even questioning his colleague’s need to shoot something. 

“Westside.”  Shaw said evenly. 

She heard John take a sharp breath. 

“That bad, huh?”  John asked in his usual scratchy monotone. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and glanced at her phone again, which now suggested she had thirteen unread text messages. 

“John…bring the big guns.”  Shaw said flatly. 

Shaw couldn’t hear it, but she could almost feel her associate nod curtly through the line, as was his usual reaction whenever he enabled her poor decisions wholeheartedly. 

“Smoothie from Benny’s?”  John asked. 

Shaw didn’t even have to consider.

“Pineapple…would be great.”


	20. Chapter 20

John Reese wasn’t quite sure what to expect as he walked through the front doors of the Westside Rifle and Pistol Range.  There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, though he suspected most of those he had seen were actually overflow parking for the Shopping Centre across the street.  It was a bright Thursday morning after all…an early morning at that.  Most patrons and members of the shooting club wouldn’t be out until late in the evening, which was fine by John. 

Reese nodded to the bored looking attendant at the front desk who had started to rise to ask if he needed to rent a gun.  John shook his head and flipped open his wallet without saying anything to show his membership card to the attendant.  The attendant nodded in approval and settled back to look through his magazine, completely content at this nonverbal exchange to start the morning.  John hefted the black duffel bag in his left hand and whistled lightly to the dog that had settled back on his haunches to wait patiently. 

Bear leapt up and trotted down the ramp toward the target stations as if he knew the way. 

John followed, trying to balance Shaw’s smoothie in one hand and the big guns in the other. 

John Reese was both relieved and a little uneasy to see that Shaw was alone in the large room.  There were targets lined up in each of the eight stalls, but no one was firing.  The big area was quiet as a tomb.  Shaw was sitting alone on the long bench on the back wall, staring intently at a crumpled flyer.  She looked like she wanted to set the piece of paper on fire.  John also noted that Shaw had removed her hoodie…which could only mean she was about to take out several hundred helpless targets to work out some major level stress. 

John took a deep breath, about to call out, but Bear beat him to it. 

The dog barked once and ran across the open space excitedly. 

Shaw’s eyes lifted and her face relaxed slightly, though her eyebrows remained furrowed in a decidedly angry expression.  Shaw relaxed her tearing and not caring grip on the flyer so she could free one hand to pat the head of the giant dog barreling toward her. 

“Bear!”  Shaw said with a fondness bordering on tenderness. 

Bear nudged her knee, but knew better than to jump up and lick her face without an invitation. 

“Zit, Bear.”  John called as he crossed the empty range much more slowly, careful of the offerings he brought. 

The dog obeyed, but snorted to show his unhappiness…he would much rather have jumped up into Shaw’s lap.  Shaw took pity and leaned down to kiss his snout. 

“I missed you too, handsome man.”  Shaw said with a sigh as she scratched Bear behind the ears. 

John dropped the duffle bag unceremoniously on the bench.  He held Shaw’s mega sized smoothie out to her, his eyes glancing over the Missing flyer in her hand. 

“Pineapple, as requested.”  John said evenly. 

Shaw’s eyes lit up once more and she snatched the prize from John’s hand, immediately sticking the straw in one side of her mouth to take a long draw while she simultaneously lifted the flyer to show the ex-CIA operative.

“You seen these?”  Shaw asked in lieu of thanks. 

John didn’t mind. 

He sat beside her stiffly and took up the flyer, frowning slightly as he eyed the picture of the girl that was in so much danger…a thought that kept John up at night.  He may have entered the case late, but he always took his numbers seriously and gave them everything he had. 

“Yeah, they’re plastered all over the city.”  John said matter-of-factly as he turned the flyer over to look for further information on the back. 

“It’s a big story, Shaw.  A nice family gunned down right in the middle of the touring district, in broad daylight and their little girl abducted right under the noses of the NYPD that were already on the scene… Luckily they haven’t found the offshore accounts yet.  They don’t know about the other assassins.  They think Christenson was the target all along, and it doesn’t make any sense to them because he’s squeaky clean.  The news outlets are calling it the most baffling rampage of the year.”

“I’m just saying a little head’s up would have been nice…”  Shaw said as she took a long pull from her smoothie. 

Her eyes narrowed as she took back the flyer. 

“I told her we should have just holed up in the house.  Someone’s bound to recognize her if her face is all over the news…”  Shaw muttered, working her jaw around her straw as she glared at the large image of a smiling Daniella.  The NYPD seal was stamped at the bottom, with information for the tip line set up by the 8th Precinct. 

John coughed a little and chose not to bring up the obvious thorn in Shaw’s side…well, not directly anyway.  There was a question he needed to ask…one Harold was too afraid to pose. 

“Speaking of recognition…”  John started slowly, eyeing his partner with a glint in his eye that was just as much genuine curiosity as it was amusement.  “You don’t think the girl looks anything like…”

“Stop right there, Reese.”  Shaw growled. 

She straightened and crumpled the flyer up, tossing it. 

Bear lifted his head, but didn’t give chase. 

“We are not going there.”  Shaw said icily. 

John eyed the ball of paper rolling away and sighed. 

“Fair enough…”  John said. 

He listened for a moment to the sound of Shaw slurping up her smoothie. 

“But really Shaw…Harold’s too proud to admit it, but he’s having trouble getting information this time.  Someone’s covered their tracks really well…and I mean _really_ well.  I haven’t seen Finch stumped like this since…”

“If you have something to say, then man up and say it.”  Shaw snarled, clenching her left fist so hard she could feel her nails breaking through the skin. 

Bear was immediately alerted to the sudden chill to the air and lifted his head to lick her knuckles. 

“Okay…do you think Root has anything to do with this?”  John asked, turning his searching, honest blue eyes on his friend. 

“Don’t you think I would tell you if I did?”  Shaw demanded, glaring back. 

“I know you would…”  John said calmly. 

His expression made it clear he didn’t doubt Shaw’s integrity in the least, but still…he hesitated, which made Shaw’s glare narrow down to murderous.  He knew he was treading on thin ice. 

“…but it’s Root.  None of us know why she does what she does; and for her to show up unexpected like this isn’t new or anything, but this time just feels different, don’t you think…”

"You know damn well why she does what she does, John.”  Shaw snapped.  “Because the Machine told her too.  If she’s here, it’s because the Machine wants her here.  Maybe the Machine thinks she can help Harold with the hacking and nerd stuff, who knows…” 

John nodded a fraction, deciding not to comment on the fact that Shaw herself was often one to complain about the Machine’s interference via Root.  That Shaw was very possessive of their numbers…that he had never seen her so willing to share with the analogue interface before…that he was starting to notice a pattern of protectiveness that had somehow managed to slip under his radar all this time.   

“So…the Machine wants you out on Flower Hill playing house?”  John asked with a quirked eyebrow. 

Shaw’s scowl deepened.  She glared into the depths of her supersized cup, stabbing at the bits of pineapple angrily.  She frowned even deeper when her phone buzzed in her back pocket as if to mock her even further.

“Shouldn’t you get that…it could be your wife.”  John teased, smiling when Shaw cut the tension by punching him in the gut. 

Reese appreciated Shaw as his colleague, but he also enjoyed getting under her skin and watching her squirm just a bit.  She had often teased him about his complicated relationship with Zoe Morgan…and then nearly pummeled him senseless when he ‘sort of’ got involved with Carter…before their comrade had been tragically gunned down.  Since then, John hadn’t had much of a personal life at all for Shaw to tease him about, but he still remembered how frustrating it had been…and this was the first time he could really get any kind of payback. 

Shaw didn’t even look at Reese as she thrust her smoothie into his hands and dug her phone out of her back pocket. 

John appreciated that she had left the last dregs of pineapple bits for him, but he knew better than to touch even the scraps of her food without permission, so he just waited patiently, tapping the near-empty cup against his knee. 

Shaw glanced briefly at the screen and her frown somehow managed to get darker.

“This is just ridiculous…”  Shaw muttered coldly.  “She wants me to pick out furniture.” 

Reese chuckled at Shaw’s tone and smoothed his hair back. 

“At least she’s letting you have a say—“ 

John halted as Shaw’s phone buzzed again, making Shaw hiss.

“Ikea?” 

John frowned and leaned over, surprised to see long blocks of text all from an unknown number on Shaw’s screen…it appeared to be a list of some kind. 

“Shag carpet…purple…nail polish…rainbow colors…bunny slippers, two pair?”  John read aloud, confused. 

He looked at Shaw’s face. 

“I thought you said the house already had everything you needed.” 

Shaw’s expression was grim.  She was gripping the phone so tight, John was pretty sure it would shatter…there wasn’t a company out there that had yet managed to make a Shaw-proof phone.

“Apparently…she lied.”  Shaw said coldly. 

John glanced from the phone to Shaw and back again, not really knowing, but also not quite sure he wanted to know which ‘she’ Shaw was referring too. 

The phone buzzed once more and John could see Shaw already tensing, preparing to throw her phone against the far wall.

“Hey, you want to shoot some stuff?”  John asked, knowing this would be more than therapeutic for his companion. 

Shaw’s face slowly smoothed over and she set her phone down on the bench genteely, and then rose to her feet with a deep breath.

“I thought you’d never ask.”  Shaw said huskily. 

Reese chuckled to himself and kicked the duffle back over to her while he rose to retrieve two pairs of mandatory goggles and earmuffs. 

John watched Shaw’s eye light up like a child’s at Christmas as she pulled out her rifle and started piecing it together.  John wordlessly handed her a set of protective wear and reached into the side pocket of the duffle to pull out a simple glauc. 

Shaw snorted when she noted his choice.

"Lame.”  She muttered as she hefted her weapon and went to the first gate. 

John just followed silently and went up to the mark beside hers. 

“Extremities 20, Central Mass 50?”  John wanted to clarify their usual parameters. 

Shaw grinned slyly and lined her rifle up. 

“ _Please_ , John…”  Shaw snorted.  “Head shots or nothing…winner gets the dog.” 

Shaw fired off several rounds in quick succession, peppering a fist-sized hole in the forehead of her target. 

John’s lips twitched and he took aim as well. 

Bear snorted and sat back on his haunches, watching his humans duke it out in a fierce show of gunpowder and precision.      


	21. Chapter 21

Root stood still for a moment to soak in the bright afternoon sun. 

The Machine was whispering a rather beautiful anecdote about the way light travels to earth when Root’s attention was suddenly shattered by her daughter’s call.  Root blinked as the Machine’s tones grew fainter and then faded after Her ‘TTYL’ sign.  Root had to smile at that.  The Machine was never one to get jealous, and she never disappeared completely.  Even when She was quieter than usual, it was usually because She wanted Root to live her life...or at least that’s what Root told herself.  She didn’t like it when the Machine went silent for too long…it made her worry.  She didn’t like to think about what it could mean, the danger She could be in. 

Root glanced toward the sky, hoping somehow, someway She could see Root’s grateful smile. 

“Maman où es-tu?”  Daniella called again. 

Root glanced back down and took a quick breath to re-center herself before stepping down from the deck, careful not to jostle the tray in her hands.

“I’m coming, Ella bird…is everyone ready?”  Root called as she approached the little playhouse in the back corner of the yard. 

Daniella’s head ducked back from the small window and then reappeared a millisecond later. 

“Yes.  We are only waiting on you, Mommy.”  Daniella informed her mother. 

Root crouched down low and balanced the tray on her knees. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting too long, Ella bird…here’s the tea.”  Root said as she passed the decorative tea pot filled with sweet tea through the window to her daughter. 

Daniella accepted it reverently and set it down on the little table inside the playhouse where several dolls and action figures were already waiting with small toy cups at the ready. 

“And here’s the sugar.”  Root said as she passed the little dish through. 

Daniella was humming a nursery rhyme as she arranged the utensils one by one until the tray was empty and Root was looking through the little window to a royally laid tea party. 

“There.  Do you have everything you need?”  Root asked, smiling as she watched her daughter fiddling with the arrangement.  Daniella looked up and tapped her chin twice in thought.  After a moment, her curls spun as she turned to look at her mother, her eyes wide.

“Non!  No, no!  Nous avons besoin de toi Mommy; vous pouvez vous asseoir ici!”  Daniella explained as she patted the place of honor closest to the door of the playhouse. 

Root eyed the narrow doorway. 

“I’m not sure I can fit, Ella bird…”  She muttered. 

Daniella’s eyes grew even wider. 

“We can make room, Mommy.  We don’t need Mr. Froggyhead or American Monster.”  Daniella said quickly as she took up two of her toys and threw them unceremoniously through the window. 

Root laughed. 

“How about I sit here and you pass me my tea through the window, okay?”  Root asked with a smile to help persuade her child. 

Daniella considered this for a moment. 

“Okay…but when Sah-meen gets home she can make the door bigger for us.”  Daniella decided with a shrug as she took up the cup that would be Root’s. 

Root frowned ever so slightly. 

“But…don’t you like your playhouse the way it is?”  Root asked as she took the plastic cup absentmindedly and watched her child carefully pour equal amounts of tea for each of her guests. 

“Mhmmm.”  Daniella hummed as she set down the tea pot and tugged on a stray curl as she considered whether to distribute the sugar or the imaginary cream next.  “But Sah-meen has lots of tools…she could make it bigger with her axe…”  Daniella said off-handedly, gesturing toward the door.  Her big brown eyes finally swiveled to the door and her eyebrows came together. 

“Mommy, don’t you like your tea?”  Daniella asked. 

Root blinked. 

“Hmm?  Oh, yes.  It’s lovely.”  Root feigned a sip and smiled as she watched her daughter play, but there was now a nagging fear in the back of her mind, and she couldn’t put herself whole-heatedly into the game. 

By the time evening came, Root was finally leading a sleepy Daniella back inside, balancing the tea tray and used playthings on one hip and her daughter in the other. 

“Ella, why don’t you go pick out a story while I wash these?”  Root suggested. 

Daniella yawned and slid down obediently from her mother’s hip and slowly staggered toward the stairs. 

Root watched her carefully until she disappeared from sight. 

Then Root darted out to the garage and switched on a light, surprised to see that most of the workstation taking up one wall was barren.  Even the hooks on the wall for various tools and for bike parts or something were all empty. 

Root frowned and stepped back inside, pulling the string to turn off the garage light. 

Root went back into the pantry and shuffled around, determined to find Shaw’s secret stash. 

She was going through every possible place in her mind…she and Daniella had spent most of the morning rearranging the house and redecorating with the few things the Machine had sent packaged and waiting.  But in none of their projects had Root spotted anything suspicious. 

Root almost bumped her head on the underside of the breakfast nook table when she heard a warning from the Machine, an alert that Shaw was returning.  Root cursed under her breath and stood, drumming her fingers impatiently along the tabletop.  Her eyes darted one way and then another, trying to imagine where Shaw would hide…Root’s eyes snapped onto the bit of closet under the stairs…tucked away and almost forgotten…next to the master bedroom. 

Root darted down the hall, her bare feet making more noise than she intended as she threw open the cupboard door and was confronted with exactly what she’d dreaded to see. 

Shaw’s gun box was stowed on the bottom shelf immediately to Root’s left…and she could see that Shaw had pulled nearly everything that could possibly be fashioned into a weapon in here…she could almost imagine Shaw’s favorite rifle hanging prominently on the back wall.  It was organized and it was terrifying…even with the bare necessities, Shaw had fashioned herself an armory. 

Root slammed the cupboard door closed as the Machine issued one more warning, that vehicle licensed Charlie Indigo Alpha - 0038 was approaching and that the driver would be unable to carry in the contents of the vehicle by herself. 

Root snorted and turned away, going back to the kitchen. 

She turned on the water full blast to pretend she could drown out the Machine’s advice.  Root scrubbed at the toddler sized teacups and tea saucers, glaring at the designs of flowers and cherubs.  She did not feel like smiling back at the happy little faces. 

Root heard Daniella’s call, but didn’t look up. 

She set the tea pot in the drying rack and dried her hands before she went to take up the trash bag they had forgotten near the island. 

Root deliberately hefted the bag and slipped out the garage door just as she heard the front door open. 

She padded through the garage and slipped out the side door…going to the bins slowly so she could try to collect her thoughts.  She knew Shaw needed to feel secure and in control on this mission…which meant she needed to have her own arsenal at the ready. 

Root could relate.  She always felt vulnerable without both guns.  But she couldn’t go around with her guns sticking out of her waistband with Daniella around. 

That just couldn’t happen. 

Which was why she didn’t understand why Shaw wouldn’t have found a more…inventive or secretive place to stash her weapons. 

Root let out a huff of anger as she hefted the garbage into the bin to join all the other rubbish…the pictures from the family who had owned the house before, several of the mismatched tea towels, and other things that didn’t fit Root’s fancy.  At least now the house would feel like theirs, would feel believable even if nothing else did…Root smiled slightly and turned to go back. 

Root had taken no more than two steps when she heard something that set her heart racing. 

The bloodcurdling scream of her child—and then a loud bark as if from a dog…and the next instant Daniella was crying. 

Root ran back through the garage and barreled into the house, not even thinking to breathe. 

Root’s eyes couldn’t process exactly what she was seeing, but she was on her knees immediately, pulling Daniella up against her to shield her from the excitable Dutch Maloniose that had a moment ago been trying to lick the girl’s face. 

Shaw stood a few feet away, her face panicked and several items were scattered on the floor as if she’d dropped them.  Shaw had a firm hold on Bear’s collar, trying to pull him back. 

“What happened?!”  Root demanded, using both hands to push Daniella’s curls away to look into her daughter’s tear-stained face.

“It was an accident…”  Shaw grunted a little more forcefully than usual. 

Bear was wriggling with excitement at the return of another one of his favorite humans.  He was straining hard against Shaw’s grip, wanting to get to Root. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.”  Root snapped darkly above the wails of the child without even looking at Shaw. 

The panic and guilt in Shaw’s face immediately smoothed over into neutrality and she yanked Bear back hard. 

“Ella?  Ella, my darling, what happened?  Are you hurt?”  Root asked breathlessly as she felt along her daughter’s arms and searched her neck for scratches.  She could feel a large bump at the back of her head already forming from where Daniella had smacked the floor and Root pulled her blubbering child into a tight embrace.  Root’s eyes lifted to Shaw finally, and they were burning. 

“He goes outside.”  Root said harshly. 

Bear seemed to sense her malice was directed at him and whimpered, dropping his head in shame. 

Shaw’s mouth twitched.

“It was an accident—he was just excited.”  Shaw defended, nostrils flaring. 

“I said take him outside.”  Root said as she stood and pulled Daniella up with her, holding her daughter firmly against her chest. 

Shaw regarded her coldly.

“How was I supposed to know he’d be so much bigger than her?  It was an accident, Root, don’t take it out on…” 

“Don’t call me that!”  Root snarled, her eyes ablaze.

“Root, I’m sorry.”  Shaw said evenly, sure that this overreaction was probably her fault and she should probably try to get out ahead of whatever it was. 

Root scoffed and brushed by Shaw on her way to the stairs. 

“Get him out of here, Shaw.”  Root snapped as she started up the stairs.  “And next time…put a lock on your guns!”  Root called with venom as she stepped into Daniella’s room and slammed the door. 

Shaw’s eyes immediately darted to the closet under the stairs and she could see that the door was open just a tiny bit. 

Shaw groaned and rubbed at the back of her neck.  _So that was it_ … 

Bear let out a low whine and looked up at Shaw. 

Shaw glanced down at him, her expression grim. 

“Don’t worry, buddy.  She didn’t mean it.”  Shaw murmured. 

Shaw couldn’t be sure, but she almost swore she could hear a muffled ‘Yes, I did!’ come from upstairs.  Shaw rolled her eyes and tugged on Bear’s collar, leading him toward the master bedroom. 

“It’s settled then…you’re sleeping with me.”  Shaw whispered as she pulled the large dog into the dark room and released him before closing the door quickly. 

Shaw sighed and turned back to the destruction right in the entryway.  She frowned and glanced around, trying to understand what was different now that she was alone and no one was screaming or crying or barking. 

Shaw realized that the walls were no longer bare. 

The frames were up again, but now they held pictures of Daniella…and a few of Shaw herself…with Root. 

Shaw glared at the nearest picture that featured a younger Daniella on a swing, with Root laughing just behind her.  Shaw blinked and turned away.  She chose not to look any closer at the moment and went to retrieve the things she had dropped. 

Shaw picked up Bear’s bed and his feeding and water dishes and took them to the kitchen…she was right, they tucked in perfectly right next to the refrigerator.  Shaw hung Bear’s leash on the other side of the door leading into the garage and then carefully made her way back to the master bedroom.  She cringed as she pushed the door open, but surprisingly, she didn’t feel complete and total destruction immediately, so she chanced flipping on a light. 

Bear was lying at the end of the massive queen sized bed.  He lifted head up when Shaw opened the door and wagged his tail, but he didn’t bark or move. 

Shaw’s eyes narrowed as she leaned against the door and glanced around the room.  It was…quaint.  The carpet wasn’t necessarily thick and Shaw knew almost immediately that the shag rug was meant to go at the end of the large bed…but that would be ridiculous because this was Shaw’s room and she was not about to put Root’s rug in here. 

That would just be dumb. 

There were two large walk in closets on the far wall, one on either side of the great big window, and just below the bottom of the window stood a long, low chest of drawers.  On the two perpendicular walls, large black and white paintings of flowers and petals stair-stepped as if to mirror each other.  Shaw could see the door leading to an ensuite on the left hand side. 

Shaw frowned and stepped more directly into the room, tossing Bear’s bed down in the corner and sidled over to glance out the window. 

Instead of the neighbor’s house, Shaw could only see the blossoms of a Japanese cherry tree. 

Shaw frowned and turned again to go, but froze when she saw the picture hanging above the bed.  It was a simple, abstract painting, also black and white like the rest of the décor…it depicted two hands—fingers barely touching…’brushing, really—reaching for eachother’…but it was the exact replica of a painting that had sat in a chestnut chest her mother had kept at the foot of her parent’s bed…a gift from her mother’s mother-in-law on her wedding day.  Of course, the hands featured in that painting had been distinctly male and female…and in this painting…Shaw could tell that they were meant to be feminine, both hands…and both were sporting golden bands…a sign of everlasting love. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and whistled to Bear, snapping so he would get off the bed and come lay down in his own. 

As the dog shifted his weight, he nearly knocked a smaller framed photo from the nightstand.  Shaw darted forward to catch it and stared at the photo of her and Root.  Shaw was kissing Root’s cheek while it looked as if Root were snapping the picture, beaming and surprised.  Shaw’s eyebrows furrowed and she glanced across the bed to the opposite nightstand where another picture in a black frame sat…this one just of the two of them sitting on a park bench, Root laughing so hard her eyes were shut and her nose scrunched up while Shaw’s lips were parted in a rare smile.  Shaw snorted and replaced the picture, setting it photo down. 

“Damn photoshop.”  Shaw muttered. 

Bear cocked his head to one side and Shaw gave him a parting glare that she softened with a blown kiss as she stepped out of the master bedroom…her bedroom. 

That she would be sharing with Bear.  Just Bear.  And no one else. 


	22. Chapter 22

Shaw knew it was only a matter of time before Root would come back downstairs.  So she busied herself with bringing in the ‘few things’ Root and the Machine had conspired to have her pick up from various obscure corners of New York City.  Shaw had to admit, she didn’t mind some of it.  The former owners of the home clearly had been into a lot of plaid and strange cubic pieces of furniture.  Shaw realized as she rolled in one of the loveseats that Root must have already moved out the old to make room. 

Shaw was glad though that the couch was staying…it had proved very comfortable that first night.

Shaw tried to avoid looking up at the mantel piece as she tried to put together the stupid Ikea coffee table. 

The first few nights, that wall over the decorative fireplace had been empty.  But now, it was obviously the focal point of the room, making the large television look like an afterthought.  Now there hung a large portrait…a family portrait.  The Machine had really outdone itself with all of these photos.  Shaw couldn’t even begin to imagine where it had gotten so many pictures of her…smiling.  Shaw hardly ever smiled.  And definitely not for pictures. 

The only picture she could be sure was real was an old service photo, taken just after she had joined the Marines. 

Shaw’s head jerked up when she heard the upstairs door to the girl’s room open and close. 

Shaw stopped struggling with two ill-matched pieces and went to rearrange the screws and bolts she had dumped in the depression she’d made on one of the throw pillows.  She kept her eyes on Root as she descended the stairs, making it perfectly clear she knew there was a storm coming and she wouldn’t flinch away. 

Root hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, drumming her fingers along the end of the banister. 

She took a breath and then finally glanced at Shaw. 

Root took in the scattered, oblong and impossibly shaped pieces of what she assumed was meant to be a coffee table or perhaps a small stable, she couldn’t be sure.  And then she took in the grumpy Persian sitting in the midst of the disorganized mess.  Root bit her lower lip and slipped around the banister, heading for the kitchen.  She would need to compose herself before she could deal with this. 

Root heard Shaw growl, but she didn’t stop to say anything to her.  She noticed in passing that there was now a lock on the door to the cupboard under the stairs.  At least _that_ was now taken care of. 

But her frustration with Shaw—that might take a little more work. 

Root had just spent the better part of an hour trying to calm her crying child, and had only barely gotten Daniella to promise to try to take a nap so she could see about dinner.  But now she found she didn’t really have an appetite.  She was, however, very thirsty and she filled herself a glass of water. 

Root gazed through the window above the sink and frowned when she saw how empty the back yard was.

“Where’s Bear?”  Root called as she sipped some of her water. 

“You know, it would help if they actually printed the instructions in English.”  Root heard Shaw mutter.  Root sighed and rinsed her glass before drying and replacing it.

“Shaw…”  Root said lowly as she crossed back into the den. 

“And what exactly was the point of sending me all over the city for all this junk if your precious Machine was just going to send you everything anyway?”  Shaw demanded with a grunt as she fiddled with one of the legs and an impossible bevel. 

Root rolled her eyes and watched from the dining table.  Shaw’s muscles bulged as she angrily screwed one of the pieces into place, and Root was beginning to lose hold of her earlier anger. 

“Oh, you know…”  Root said wistfully as she pushed off from the dining table and came into the den, drawn to Shaw for reasons unknown.  “Shipping is such a hassle these days, and so expensive…She sent the little things, of course, but seeing as you were going to be in the city anyway…it was definitely more convenient.”  Root said with a shrug as she plopped down on the couch and crossed her legs.  Shaw snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“And of course…”  Root whispered as Shaw tossed the screwdriver down in disgust and turned instead to a roll of duct tape which she proceeded to tear into strips with her teeth.  Root inhaled, biting her lower lip slightly, “We both know you love taking orders.”

Shaw’s hands stilled at that tone and her eyes flickered up to Root momentarily.  Root’s eyes were dark.  There was something fierce in their darkness, like secrets they both knew well.  Root perched on the couch like a predator watching its prey below.  Shaw felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine and she forced herself to turn back to the task at hand, taping the last leg of the table down securely.      

“Yeah well, I am never going into an Ikea store again.”  Shaw muttered, refusing to even acknowledge the earlier comment. 

Root smiled and slithered down to the floor beside Shaw, putting a hand on her arm to stop her from destroying the coffee table while she reached over with the other hand to snatch up the instructions. 

“Come on, Shaw.  It can’t be that hard.”  Root said with a bright laugh that bore no trace of the animal desire that had tainted her tone a moment ago. 

Root had always been able to dip into dangerously tense and tight territory and then slip back out again into her perky, careless self flawlessly.  Sometimes it was a relief to Shaw to know that Root always somehow knew when she’d gone too far and could back-track before Shaw really got angry…but other times it just left her flustered and confused, still trying to process what had happened while Root moved on as if it hadn’t happened at all. 

This time, however, Shaw was more than willing to try to ignore Root’s suggestive hint and focus on the impossible task at hand. 

“Oh, really?”  Shaw challenged, narrowing her eyes. 

“Look at this.”  Shaw said, gesturing at the bits and pieces still scattered everywhere.

“There should not be this many leftover pieces!  And why are these things plastic?  This is not going to hold—and look at this, there aren’t enough screws for the last leg…it makes no sense!”  Shaw said angrily, rolling the duct tape between her hands. 

Root glanced over at Shaw, grinning.  She had known what she was doing.  She had hoped for a moment like this…even if she had known there might be the possibility that Shaw would flat out refuse to comply with some of her more ridiculous requests.  But even in that case…Root had always found a frustrated Shaw to be quite sexy…as well as angry Shaw…and ‘I’m-ignoring-you-but-secretly-think-you’re-hot’ Shaw…and hungry Shaw…and Shaw in the middle of a fight…and sleepy Shaw…and pretty much every version of Shaw…especially smiling Shaw—it didn’t happen often, but when it did…there was something about Shaw’s smile that warmed Root’s heart. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Sweetie.”  Root said with an even broader grin when Shaw just rolled her eyes. 

“Put the duct tape away.  We can figure this out without resorting to backwoods engineering.”  Root said smugly as she settled back and started to skim over the instructions. 

Shaw whipped her head around to glare at her.

“Seriously?”  Shaw couldn’t believe her ears. 

“Duct tape is _not_ just backwoods engineering...NASA uses it…and the military…it’s literally the universal tool, _Samantha_.”  Shaw snapped, stressing the name Root wanted her to use.  She hated using that name for Root.  She was pretty sure the name was ruined for her now.  If they ever got a number called ‘Samantha’, she may not be able to stop herself from shooting them—and it would be Root’s fault.  Root only gave her a small pout, making Shaw get even more heated.

“Haven’t you ever watched Mythbusters?”  Shaw demanded.  “There are like…three episodes just about all the things you can do with—Although…”  Shaw broke off suddenly with a sly smirk brightening her dark eyes, “They did miss a few key uses—You’d be surprised at how many ways I could kill someone with just—"

Shaw paused when she heard Root snort. 

“You realize it’s called ‘duct’ tape because people thought it could hold metal air ducts together and it completely failed, right?  It’s named for something it _cannot_ do.  Duct tape is hardly a sufficient tool.”  Root said with a light laugh. 

Shaw quirked an eyebrow, her dark eyes darting down to Root’s slender wrists. 

“You wanna bet on that, _Samantha_?”  Shaw asked lowly. 

Root heard the challenge in Shaw’s tone and it made her insides coil tightly, making her have to shift her position a little to relieve some of the pressure. 

Root smiled and glanced at Shaw.  She leaned deliberately closer to invade the shorter woman’s personal space—knowing that with such a challenge on the table, Shaw wouldn’t dare back down. 

“Tempting, Sameen…but I wouldn’t bet our coffee table on it.  Now…That piece is wrong.”  Root smirked as she pointed out an error. 

Shaw didn’t move.

“Okay, maybe it can’t hold the coffee table together, but it can do _lots_ of other things.”  Shaw said again with that low, almost hungry tone.

“Oh look…that’s not right either.  Maybe we should take it apart and start all over.”  Root suggested as she tossed the instructions over her shoulder and took up one of the spare parts, completely ignoring Shaw. 

There was the unmistakable sound of duct tape being drawn taunt.  Shaw’s eyes were still locked on Root’s face, her expression dark and calculating. 

“You try to take it apart, and I will seriously tie you up.”  Shaw said evenly.  She had worked hard on this coffee table, dammit. 

Root’s pupils constricted and then dilated larger than they had been before.  She tilted her head. 

“You know it’ll take something a lot stronger than that to stop me, Sweetie.”  Root said slowly, turning her body to face Shaw. 

The air between them seemed electric with tension…and still somehow frigid. 

Shaw didn’t blink, but her lips twitched slightly.

“Now that’s a bet I’m willing to take.”  Shaw said darkly. 

Before Root could react, Shaw launched herself at Root, pinning her down almost instantly.  Root let out a surprised-but-excited breath and grinned up at Shaw as the shorter woman worked with intense concentration to wrap her wrists securely in duct tape over and over again.  Root smirked and turned her head away, grinning even broader when Shaw’s knees dug a little more harshly into her sides—it was the first time she’d felt Shaw’s edges in a long time. 

“There.”  Shaw said as she dropped Root’s hands without ceremony, tossing the mostly-expended roll of duct tape away.  She glared down at her handiwork. 

“Try to get out of that if you can… _Samantha_.”  Shaw snorted as she swiveled off of Root and walked on her knees over to snatch up the discarded instructions. 

Root rolled her eyes and brought her hands closer to her face to see just how well Shaw had bound her hands together…Root didn’t believe in impossible situations.  There was always a way out—a flaw in the system.    

“Shaw, where’s my purple rug?”  Root asked to break the silence as she started testing the strength of the duct tape. 

Shaw didn’t turn around.  She was removing one of the legs she had spent several minutes screwing down.  

"Would you like me to tape your mouth as well?”  Shaw snarled. 

Root’s eyes flicked over to Shaw. 

“You would never…you like the sound of my voice.”  Root said with a knowing smile. 

Shaw gave a final grunt as she finally pried the mismatched part free and tossed it aside. 

“What is with you and your poor listening skills?  I need silence.”  Shaw snapped, glaring at Root as she reached threateningly toward the discarded duct tape.  She knew Root was trying to break free—it made her feel smug to know that was definitely not even a remote possibility.  The hacker was about to meet her match…and watching Root swallow defeat was something Shaw looked forward to. 

Root only grinned and tilted her head to one side. 

“It’s okay, Sweetie—I won’t tell anyone.”  Root said with a wink. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and turned away, deciding it was better not to engage at all…especially since Root couldn’t even function like a human being right now.  Shaw couldn’t take her seriously—lying there on the floor with her hands duct taped together and her inability to wink…it was ridiculous.  Besides, there was absolutely _no_ truth to what Root said…even if Shaw did find something alluring about Root’s voice…even if she often needed Root’s voice to help her—no.  She wasn’t even going to think about that. 

Shaw squinted at the instructions and tried to ignore the sound of Root snickering behind her. 

“I think I preferred it when you were mad at me and not speaking.”  Shaw growled as she weighed one piece in one hand and dropped it in favor of another.  She heard the rustling of movement cease behind her and she knew Root was thinking. 

“Sameen…I’m sorry I yelled at you.”  Root’s voice had lost the flirting undertone. 

“Whatever.”  Shaw muttered as she tentatively tried to slide the leg into place and then began tightening the screws, not sure she trusted it. 

“Shaw…really.  I am.”  Root insisted. 

Shaw sighed and stopped moving for a moment. 

“I know.  Root.”  She said softly. 

Shaw waited for Root to say something else, to say too much—to go off on how she had snapped because she was overstressed or something.  But for once, Root seemed to sense that enough had already been said.  They both knew their current situation was putting a strain on things, and it wouldn’t get better until the threat was eliminated entirely, only then could things go back to…well, whatever ‘normal’ was for them. 

Shaw cleared her throat and checked the sturdiness of the leg, glad to see that it was secure. 

“John says Harold may need your help.”  Shaw said nonchalantly as she moved on to the last leg.

“Really?  I thought Harry wanted to avoid me at all costs.”  Root muttered as she reached for one of the screws that had rolled near her foot.

“I’m serious, Root—"

“How is the big lug?  You destroyed him at the range, I’m assuming.”  Root interrupted, needing to keep Shaw talking as she moved little by little, trying to steal the screw without drawing Shaw’s attention.  She heard Shaw snort and could imagine the smirk that would bring out that little dimple on one side. 

“Yeah, I kicked his ass.”  Shaw’s voice was dripping with pride and Root felt the usual warmth blossom in her chest. 

“That’s my girl.”  Root muttered with affection as she successfully managed to get the screw between her forefinger and thumb and tried to shimmy it down between her palms tip first so she could work on driving it through the duct tape. 

“But you know…”  Root said as she worked on seesawing her hands back and forth, “I’m pretty sure when Harry set that scoring system for the two of you…he meant those points for central mass and head shots to be negative…to discourage you from—“

“Harold wasn’t there.”  Shaw grunted. 

Root’s eyes flickered up to Shaw’s back and she could see her muscles straining.  Root inhaled, humming to herself as she glanced down again to concentrate on freeing her hands. 

“What a shame.”  Root muttered without really meaning it. 

She admired Finch for many things, but his sometimes mistrust of the Machine kept her very aware of several of his faults.  He had refused Her help on more than one occasion and it had cost them all dearly. Root couldn’t understand his unwillingness to accept that he had created something truly wonderful and beautiful...something perfect.  She didn’t care that he couldn’t see Root herself as an asset—it hurt, but she knew she deserved his mistrust, but She on the other hand…She had always done everything in Her power to take care of Harold, Her creator, to do what he had created Her to do to the best of Her ability and yet he still treated Her with open hostility at times…it was enough to make Root furious.  The Machine often had to calm her down before sending her to meet with Harold…and it didn’t help that the man had an obvious preference for one helper monkey over Shaw—but then again, Root had to admit that she was biased. 

“He was too busy.”  Root heard Shaw say.  She glanced up, but didn’t ask anything.  She was just starting to make a little headway with the screw—   

“You were too good, Root.”  Shaw muttered as she rose up on her knees to get a better angle as she tried to force the last leg into place.  “Harold can’t—get around—the—“  Shaw paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead and get a better grip on the piece of hardware she was working with.  “Encryptions you used.” 

Root’s face paled slightly.  She strained to pull herself up into a seated position and let her bound hands fall into her lap.  The screw rolled away. 

“He didn’t…recognize my code, did he?”  Root asked. 

Shaw frowned.  She was standing now, about to flip the coffee table over and really test her skill. 

Shaw glanced over at Root, surprised at the fierce reaction she had in her blood when she saw Root looking a little scared.  Shaw pushed down the weird feeling and shrugged her shoulders as she squatted and carefully checked each leg one more time. 

“Is that a thing?  Do all hackers have a call sign or a specific hashtag or something?”  Shaw asked.

If Root hadn’t been so worried—her mind full of Daniella and how vulnerable she was and all the things she had done to keep her safe and everything she would have to do to make sure something like this never happened again—she would have laughed at Shaw’s innocent but completely ridiculous question.  But, as it was, she didn’t even hear her. 

Shaw grinned as she took a small step back from the pristine coffee table.  It looked pretty good to her. 

Shaw’s smile faded when she glanced over at Root again and noticed that blank expression on her face…Root’s eyes always went distant when talking to the Machine, but Shaw could usually see other things too, the reverence, the hope, the excitement…but this was different. 

All she could see on Root’s face was panic.

“Root.”  Shaw tried to keep her voice neutral, to disguise her concern. 

Root didn’t respond right away…her fingers twitched and she bit her lower lip. 

“Root?”  Shaw asked again, taking a step around the table to come closer. 

Root’s eyes slowly lifted and focused on Shaw. 

“I need my laptop.”  Root said suddenly. 

Shaw blinked. 

“Shaw, I need my laptop.  I have to make sure that I didn’t make another mistake.”  Root said, her voice cracking a little at that last word. 

Shaw glanced away, not sure why she suddenly had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

“Okay, where is it?”  Shaw asked. 

“In the city.  I have to go get it…”  Root started to rise to her feet, struggling a little because her hands were still bound. 

Shaw moved quickly and pushed her back onto the couch. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…slow down, Root.” 

“Shaw, you don’t understand…”  Root tried to rise again, but Shaw gave up just pushing her back and opted to straddle her instead. 

“Root, stop.”  Shaw said fiercely, but not angrily. 

Root froze beneath her, her heart still pounding fearfully fast.  She swallowed.

“It’s going to be okay.”  Shaw said stiffly. 

Root blinked and cocked her head to one side. 

Shaw frowned, realizing she probably sounded insincere.  She wet her lips and tried again, “Look, John asked me if I thought you had anything to do with this—he and Finch have both noticed that she…well, that Daniella looks an awful lot like you, and on top of that, her records are so well hidden…” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”  Root interrupted, as she strained and succeeded in breaking the weakened duct tape.  Root could see the surprise flash across Shaw’s face and she tried to push Shaw off of her, but Shaw just caught her wrists and forced them back down over her head.  Root frowned and blew a stray curl out off of her face, thinking she should have waited to break free, a moment when Shaw was really off-guard—maybe then she could have gotten away.

“Told you you’d need something stronger.”  Root said a little weakly. 

She couldn’t even pretend that her voice sounded light or flirtatious in the slightest. 

Shaw rolled her eyes as she plucked away the broken wads of duct tape and tossed them away, adjusting her hold on Root’s wrists. 

“You sent me all over the city for carpets and nail polish and slippers…and you forgot to add zip-ties to the list.”  Shaw said with a slight shake of her head, her eyes still glued to Root’s face.  “Disgraceful.” 

Root blinked, at a complete loss. 

She was beginning to realize she had missed the perfect opportunity to flirt with Shaw…the thing she loved to do more than just about anything—well, except for perhaps listening to the Machine, or spending time with her daughter…it was _one_ of the things she loved to do.           

“I told him no.”  Shaw said in the same tone, as if this was completely related to everything that was running through Root’s mind after what she had just said a moment ago. 

“Hmmm?”  Root managed to make a sound, even though her eyes were tracing the strong curve of Shaw’s neck down to her collarbone.   

“John.  I told him I didn’t think you had anything to do with what happened.”  Shaw clarified. 

Root blinked, the slight pick-up to her pulse fading down to a healthier beat once more. 

“You did?”  Root was genuinely surprised.  She knew Shaw had done things to help her in the past, things that made Harold uncomfortable and John a little suspicious…but when it came down to it, Root had always known that Shaw was a part of Harold’s operation.  And Root simply didn’t belong to that crowd. 

“I made you a promise, Root.  I will keep your secret.”  Shaw said with a shrug. 

Root grinned. 

Shaw rolled her eyes at such uncalled for affection. 

“Although…that doesn’t mean they won’t figure it out for themselves.”  Shaw said on a more serious note.  “John may be dumb, but he’s not blind.  And Harold may be stumped right now, but he’s resourceful.” 

“You think I should tell them.”  Root whispered, crestfallen. 

“No.”  Shaw scoffed. 

Root perked up a little. 

“I think you should get ahead of this.  Offer Harold your help, see if you can keep him following the _right_ leads.  You don’t have to do this alone, Root.  I know you want to.  You want to get on your little laptop and try to fix everything yourself, but why not let Harold and John work _for_ you?  They’re already trying to find out the same things we are, all you have to do is step in to help them get around a few firewalls or whatever and make sure they don’t get too close to finding out the truth.” 

Root nodded, surprised at Shaw’s solution…it wasn’t that she didn’t think Shaw was intelligent or able to trouble-shoot, it was just that…usually, ‘trouble-shooting’ for Shaw involved an emphasis on the _shooting_ bit. 

“You mean I should infiltrate…”

“You don’t _have_ to infiltrate, Root.  You’re already part of the team.  We all want the same thing.  For Daniella to be safe.”  Shaw interrupted. 

Root smiled sadly up at Shaw.  She knew better than to point out that Shaw knew very well that Root was not part of Harold’s team. 

Root was in this for Her…and she was fighting a battle that Harold refused to acknowledge. 

And she knew it was about to turn into an all-out war. 

“You’re right.”  Root conceded, hiding her gloomy thoughts. 

Shaw smirked, the way her eyes flashed making it very clear that she enjoyed being right. 

Root couldn’t help the painful bit of heat that shot through her core at that look.  She gazed up at Shaw with half-lidded eyes as she slowly let her hands drift up over Shaw’s arms, the feel of her muscles sending a thrill through her.

"You know you don’t have to work so hard to impress me…”  Root whispered, dropping her tone down low as she carefully positioned her feet just right while she knew Shaw was focused on trying not to be affected by what she was doing with her hands.

“Who said I was trying to impress you?”  Shaw snorted, ignoring the way Root’s fingers dug into her shoulders. 

Root’s eyes flashed as she rose up to bring her face dangerously close to Shaw’s. 

She smiled. 

“Nobody.” 

Root flexed her legs, watching with satisfaction as Shaw’s eyebrow twitched in surprise. Root’s feet were locked around Shaw’s legs, and she used her position to flip Shaw completely over the side of the couch…crashing down with her. 

Shaw grunted as she hit the floor and glared up at Root who was still grinning wickedly.

“Dammit, Root.” 


	23. Chapter 23

Root knew she had probably been a little overzealous in getting herself and Shaw back onto the floor, but she couldn’t help it.  As much as she loved letting Shaw have the power…she needed to triumph every once in a while too.  Root ignored the fiery black eyes glaring up at her and chose to instead note their position in relation to the brand new coffee table.  A few inches over and they probably would have crashed into it…Root tucked that thought away for later action. 

“Now tell me what you did with my purple rug.”  Root sniffed as she glanced back at a very frustrated, very tousled looking Shaw.  

“Why do you even need a purple shag rug?!”  Shaw demanded, glaring up at the woman she was deciding deserved to be shot at least twice—even if it would earn her -100 points. 

Root rolled her eyes. 

“For my bedroom, Sameen, obviously.” 

“No.  There is no room.  And besides, there is no purple anything in there, it’s all black and white and purple will just throw off the entire—what?”  Shaw demanded, glaring up in defiance of the strange look Root was giving her. 

“Shaw…I told you…the master bedroom is yours.”  Root said slowly. 

"Yeah.  I know.”  Shaw shot back.  She could feel something hot like arousal making her legs start to tremble and her abdomen go taunt.  Root bit her lower lip. 

“I…was going to put the rug in the east bedroom upstairs…for me.” 

“I knew that.”  Shaw said coldly, her expression stoic and unchanging. 

Root’s eyes twinkled with amusement. 

Shaw turned her head away, hating the ache she could now feel somewhere deep. 

“Shaw…”

“Why did you put all those stupid pictures in there then?”  Shaw demanded, turning her head so she could glare up at Root’s bright smile. 

“It’s to keep up the illusion.”  Root said, chuckling lightly. 

“Well Bear doesn’t like them.  They’re creepy.”  Shaw said flatly, clenching fists. 

Root hummed slightly as she traced a scar on Shaw’s bicep. 

“What else doesn’t Bear like?”  Root asked wistfully. 

Shaw rolled her eyes. 

“He doesn’t like the curtains.  Or the doilies.  Or the fake fireplace…if you’re going to go to the trouble of putting in a fireplace, at least make sure you can burn something in there.”  Shaw said icily. 

Root’s eyes darted over to the monstrosity that Shaw was speaking of. 

“I thought that too.”  Root said with a slight frown.

“And he doesn’t like that he was excluded from the family portrait.”  Shaw said, bringing Root’s attention back to her. 

Shaw was very aware of every way that Root’s body aligned with and dug into her own.  She was also very aware that Root’s pupils were dilated and her breathing had gotten a little shallow.  Shaw was _basically_  a doctor, after all…she could recognize the signs.  Which was why she had to get Root off of her.  She could see the physical signs of arousal in Root…and she could _feel_ it in herself.

Shaw knew that they were bordering on dangerous territory.  This mission had thrown them together after a particularly long absence, and normally Shaw could take it in stride.  She and Root could usually crash together any time and come out of the encounter with what one could technically call a victory for Team Machine, but there was something different about this mission--aside from the obvious personal complications of Root being biologically bound to the number and all that noise--there was a dangerous need that pulsed just beneath the surface, everything they did was heightened.  And Shaw wasn't sure she liked it.  Because whatever was happening—the anger, the bickering, the yearning... it was distracting her from what was really important; the number.  Daniella.

“That’s a tough one.”  Root said thoughtfully, licking her bottom lip. 

Shaw swallowed a groan and just glared at the hacker above her. 

“How do you suggest I make it up to Bear?”  Root was very close to Shaw now, so close she could almost taste her heartbeat in the air between them.  Root smiled seductively, noting the few beads of sweat that stood out on Shaw’s forehead. 

Root smirked and leaned down slowly, ghosting her lips over Shaw’s neck.  She could feel Shaw stiffen, but she didn’t pull away.  Instead she latched on and slowly bit down, driving her teeth into Shaw’s flesh by degrees…it was the first taste of Shaw she’d had in months and she relished it.

Shaw’s entire body was electrified instantly.  She tried to swallow a low whine, but it escaped in a breathless gasp and she could feel Root smirking against her skin.

 “Maybe you could feed him, I’m sure he’s hungry.”  Shaw said breathlessly, hoping that somehow her flat-but-totally-stimulated response would put a bit of distance between them, and give her some relief. 

Root pulled away, grinning down at Shaw and the slight indentations where her teeth had been a moment ago.

“And what exactly are you hungry for, Sameen?”  Root asked in a low tone. 

Shaw snorted and forced a deadpan even though she knew Root could see through it.

“Steak.”  Shaw said evenly.  She was always in the mood for steak--granted that it was _seasoned properly_.  

Root raised an eyebrow, her eyes still smiling and Shaw rolled her eyes. 

“I can’t strategize on an empty stomach.” 

“Maybe not…but you can do _lots_ of other things.”   Root repeated Shaw’s earlier words as she slipped her hands under the hem of Shaw’s tank top and slowly moved up, her core quaking when she made contact with Shaw’s well defined abs.  

“Root.”  Shaw said through gritted teeth, realizing a little too late that she probably should have grabbed Root’s wrists to stop her…it wasn’t like Root was really pinning her down or anything.  She was just…testing her. 

And Shaw hated tests.   

“Get off of me.” 

Root looked down at her again, feigning innocence.

“Why?”  Root queried. 

Shaw growled in frustration and rubbed at her forehead as she tried to form words in English…sometimes her brain switched to Farsi when Root was around…usually because she could curse more efficiently in that language.

“Because it is clearly up to me to feed this ‘family’ since you can’t be relied on to take care of yourself and I’ll have to get started if we want to feed the kid before midnight.”  Shaw snapped up at an amused Root. 

Root nodded slightly, her eyes still gleaming with want. 

“Fair enough, Sameen.  You tackle dinner, I’ll clean up your mess…and we’ll meet later at home base.”  Root said with another pathetic wink before she stood and stretched, going around the coffee table to start gathering the cellophane and packing peanuts. 

Shaw remained where she was for a moment, waiting for her pulse to slow down, still trying to understand what made Root think trying to use sports metaphors was a good idea.  

“Nerd.”  Shaw muttered as she stood finally and started for the kitchen. 

She didn’t have to turn around to _feel_ Root’s beaming smile aimed at her back…she was probably even proud of herself for trying, the idiot.   

Shaw tried not to think about everything Root had just done to her as she went into the kitchen and started pulling the steaks out of the freezer. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—give into that feeling she had…she most certainly did.  She had done it before and she knew that Root was…quite an exceptional lover.  But things were different now.  Besides, they were in the middle of a mission now.  Shaw would not compromise the mission just because she hadn’t had sex in months…Root’s fault of course.  Why the Machine had had to send her all the way to Guatemala, Shaw didn’t know. 

Shaw made as much noise as possible as she prepared to make dinner. 

She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to fill the silence, but she did. 

A small voice in the back of her head told her it was sexual frustration, but she ignored it.   

It wasn’t long before Daniella came downstairs.  Shaw didn’t look up from measuring out her spices for the marinade, hoping Root would keep the kid entertained so she could cook in peace. 

Of course her wishes would be immediately denied.

Shaw tensed as she heard one of the counter stools scraping along the kitchen floor.

“You should go keep your mother company.”  Shaw said before the kid had even climbed up onto the chair. 

She could see the back of the chair resting on the counter ledge through her peripheral vision.   

“Mommy said I helped clean enough today.”  Daniella huffed as she slowly got one knee up into the seat of the chair and then hoisted the rest of herself up as well. 

She stood in the seat and looked at what Shaw had on the stovetop. 

Shaw glanced at the child, hoping the kid could keep her germs off of Shaw’s food.

“Keep your fingers back, it’s hot.”  Shaw said as she turned the handle of the frying pan toward herself and away from the child’s reach. 

Daniella reached up to brush her curls back from her face, but still leaned over the stovetop to watch the oil that was starting to spread and cover the entire pan, making the lemon Shaw had tossed in there swim.

“You know…”  Shaw said slowly as she kept one eye on the oil that wasn’t separating and the other on the mess of spices she was mixing together.  “…my friend Bear didn’t mean to knock you down, Daniella.  He didn’t mean to make you cry.”  Shaw said slowly. 

“Is that your doggie’s name?”  Daniella asked, perking up a little. 

Shaw hissed through her teeth, not sure she like her handsome man being called ‘doggie’. 

“Yes.”  Shaw said stiffly.  “He got really excited when he saw you, he’s like that around new people.” 

“He’s really big.  I was scared.”  Daniella said as she watched Shaw’s movement’s with bright, intelligent eyes. 

“It’s okay to get scared sometimes.”  Shaw murmured as she watched with growing fascination as the oil finally started to separate. 

Shaw turned away excitedly and started plopping the steaks in her marinade. 

“You don’t.”  Daniella said suddenly, startling Shaw. 

The child was looking at her with wide eyes again.  She had spoken as if it weren’t a question, but Shaw didn’t quite understand how she could do that when she didn’t know anything about Shaw…not the way Root did.  And that was a very Root-like phrase that had just come from her mouth. 

“Sure I do.”  Shaw said tersely, remembering a certain conversation she had had with another little girl…Gen had opened her eyes to a lot of things she couldn’t help feeling.  Like the…something more than anger she had felt before when Root told her the story of Daniella’s early beginnings.  She knew it wasn’t sympathy exactly…Root hadn’t let the past destroy her, and she wouldn’t want sympathy anyway…but Shaw still felt it was…she felt angry that it had happened, even if she accepted she couldn’t change it.  Or was it sad?  Was she sad that Root had been hurt, and then glad that she had gotten the chance to exact her revenge?  

Shaw shook her head a little to clear it. 

She was pretty sure she would never figure these emotions out. 

“What do you do when you get scared?”  Daniella asked, her chin resting in the crease between her two palms as she leaned on her elbows on the counter. 

Shaw pointed to the open shaker of her black pepper mix near the child’s left elbow and surprisingly Daniella responded as if she understood Shaw was asking for it. 

“Usually I shoot people.” Shaw said without thinking

Daniella’s eyes were wide. 

Shaw glanced briefly over the half-counter towards the den where Root was. 

“But that’s a…very _grown up_ thing to do.  You shouldn’t…”  Shaw hesitated, holding the spice shaker over the meat that was now sizzling in the pan, unsure. 

“Mommy says you shoot bad guys.  It’s to save lots of people.”  Daniella said matter-of-factly. 

Shaw couldn’t help but smirk and glance again at Root. 

She added the pepper.

“But you couldn’t save my Klaus and Reeta.  I miss them.”  Daniella said as Shaw handed her the spices again.  

Shaw froze and raised an eyebrow.  Daniella’s tone indicated a tint of sadness, but she also couldn’t possibly understand what had happened…that was why they had brought her out here, to protect her from the backlash and the horror. 

Shaw glanced toward the den. 

“It’s okay to miss them, Daniella…you can be sad.”  Shaw tried to sound…what was the word?  Comforting? 

The little girl stared at Shaw, her eyes holding something Shaw hadn’t bothered to notice before.  She remembered what Gen had said, about the feelings being there, but being turned way down.  Gen had been able to see everything Shaw was eventually, even if it had frightened her at first.  Root had always had an uncanny ability—not to see right _through_ Shaw, but to really _see_ her...and accept her as she was.  And this kid…Shaw thought Root’s daughter was somewhere in between.  Daniella was a happy child who’d just been through a gunfight and some very emotional upheaval…she couldn’t understand what was happening around her any more than she could understand Shaw.  But the way her eyes stayed wide and bright…made Shaw think maybe she wanted to.

“Do you cook when you’re sad?”  Daniella asked, blinking once. 

Shaw coughed and turned back to the food that was starting to fill the entire kitchen with enticing aromas. 

“Yeah.”  Shaw muttered. 

She wasn’t sure if it was actually true.  She cooked for a lot of reasons.  Mostly so she knew her food was being made properly.  But also because it was calming.  Something that took time, but offered immediate rewards.  Her time in the Marines had made her appreciate discipline and a tight schedule.  But being in the kitchen was relaxing compared to that.  There was still a strict order to things, but it was also familiar and low-stress. 

“Can I help?”  Daniella asked with a bright smile. 

Shaw eyed her. 

She never let Gen near her kitchen when she was home for vacations…but that was mostly because she wanted the kid to have time for some actual fun after all the rigorous courses she had to deal with at her fancy prep school.  And she liked to cook while Gen chatted away about her semester and all the dirt she’d dug up on the other children and the teachers…even some of the security staff.  She had never really let Gen help her…Shaw usually considered the kitchen her personal sanctuary. 

“Sure…”  Shaw said slowly, deciding it couldn’t hurt.  “We need to make the rice.  Do you see that little tin cup?” 

Shaw indicated the measuring cup with her free hand as she pushed the platter holding the steaks she had just pulled from the frying pan away so they could cool down to room temperature.  Shaw turned the stove down and pulled the frying pan away. 

Daniella’s delicate eyebrows furrowed.

“This one?”  The child asked, holding up the 3/4ths cup. 

Shaw shook her head.

“No, that one’s too small.  I need one a little bit bigger.” Shaw said. 

Daniella replaced the measuring cup in the neat row and contemplated the others. 

“This one?” 

Daniella held up the appropriate cup and Shaw nodded.

“Yep.  That one.  Come over here.” 

Shaw caught Daniella around her waist and hoisted her from the counter over to the island and plopped her down. 

“I need you to get three cupfulls of that rice and pour it in this for me.”  Shaw pushed the rice pot toward the girl and then knelt to rummage around for a liquid measuring pitcher.

“One.” 

Shaw heard Daniella counting carefully, and she also heard several grains of rice spilling against the countertop as the girl’s small hands shook, trying to be perfect. 

“Two.” 

Shaw found the pitcher and stood, rolling her shoulders to glance at the damage, noting that there were only a few rogue grains of rice, not too big of a mess.

“Three.”  Daniella whispered softly as she pulled the last cup of rice up out of the box.  She cupped the measuring cup with both hands and wobbled it over the rice pot before dropping in the last bit of rice.

“Very good.  Now we need water.”  Shaw said as she hooked an arm around Daniella again and transferred her back to the countertop next to the sink. 

Shaw stuck the pitcher under the faucet. 

“It’s two parts water to one part rice.  Can you remember that?”  Shaw asked as she spun the pitcher so she could read the measurement markings. 

“Two parts water…one rice?”  Daniella faltered and looked up at Shaw in confusion. 

“We used three cups of rice, so we need six cups of water.  I’m going to turn on the water and I need you to tell me to turn it off when the water gets up here, to the six.  Can you do that for me?”  Shaw asked, indicating the line for six fluid cups. 

Daniella nodded solemnly.

“Okay, here we go.”  Shaw murmured as she flipped on the faucet. 

Daniella was practically in the sink, squinting hard as she watched the water rise.  Shaw smiled slightly as she watched the child. 

“Sah-meen!  It’s at six!  Turn it off!”  Daniella squealed, her eyes wide. 

Shaw turned the water off and checked the water, noting that it was a little above six cups, but it wouldn’t hurt anything. 

Shaw pulled Daniella to her hip and took the few steps back to the island. 

“Do you want to pour the water in?” Shaw asked. 

Daniella nodded eagerly and took the handle of the pitcher with both hands.  Shaw kept one hand beneath the bowl of the pitcher to make sure the child didn’t drop it and helped guide Daniella’s hands over the rice pot. 

“This is fun.”  Daniella said as the water rose above the yellow grains of rice. 

Shaw nodded and set down the empty pitcher.  She took up the rice pot and set it over low heat.  She covered it so the rice would cook in its own steam. 

“Yeah.  Do you…erm…feel better?”  Shaw asked warily. 

The child cocked her head to one side and opened her arms as if she wanted a hug or something.  Shaw glanced toward the den once more, but was surprised to note that Root was nowhere to be seen.  Perhaps she had stepped out to talk to the Machine or something. 

Shaw sighed and sidestepped closer so the child could wrap her arms around Shaw’s neck. 

Daniella giggled and the sound made Shaw scowl.  She really hoped the Machine didn’t have any cameras in the kitchen…who knew what it could do with a scene like this and a little thing called Photoshop.


	24. Chapter 24

Root stared into the sudsy water as she washed the last of the dishes from dinner, letting the warm water slide over her skin as she thought about her latest communication with the Machine.

“You know you didn’t have to do that.”

Root glanced up, surprised to see Shaw leaning against the island with her bare arms crossed over her chest.  Shaw was already dressed down for bed…wearing boxer shorts and her black tank top.  Root tried not to stare at the bulging muscles.  But she couldn’t help it.  She had always thought Sameen was beautiful, and she simply loved that there was so much more to her than met the eye. 

Root was always finding new things to adore about the grumpy Persian.

“You cooked everything, so I thought I should…”

“Daniella helped.”  Shaw said. 

Root paused, and smiled. 

“Did she?”  Root asked as she went ahead and pulled up the drainstopper, letting the dirty water drain away.

“Mhmm.”  Shaw watched Root. 

Shaw hadn’t ever really considered the hacker graceful before…but maybe that was simply because she hadn’t been paying attention.  She was used to Root being aggressively flirtatious, and maniacally excited about the prospect of violence…so much so that she often was reckless to the point of injury, sometimes by her own stupidity because the tall woman was a klutz as well as a genius.  Shaw wasn’t sure why she suddenly found Root fascinating…why every little thing she did seemed so...Shaw refused to finish that thought even as she felt the tell-tale bit of heat coiled in the pit of her stomach start to claw at her from the inside.  It probably wasn’t that she was learning all of these things about her—like that she liked 19th Century romance novels and didn’t appreciate duct tape…it was probably just that Shaw was going stir crazy and was stuck with a four year old as the only other alternative to company…it certainly wasn’t because she was growing attached in any way. 

That was not even a _remote_ possibility. 

“Well, it was delicious.”  Root said with a smile as she finished drying the last plate and put it away. 

“How would you know?”  Shaw snorted.  “You barely ate anything.” 

Root glanced up from drying the glasses and raised an eyebrow, letting her eyes wander unashamedly over Shaw’s figure.

“I was distracted.” 

Shaw rolled her eyes, unaware that she also flexed her muscles as she shifted her position, which drew Root’s eye like a magnet. 

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to start eating better, Root.”  Shaw said as disinterestedly as she could. 

Root glanced up from drying her hands, grinning.

“How lucky am I that my wife cares so much for my well-being?”  Root asked with a warm smile. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to march back into the den.

“Are we going to strategize or not?”  Shaw demanded stiffly.  Root grinned and followed, sitting down on the opposite side of the coffee table, raising an eyebrow when she saw that Shaw had a stack of index cards already set out next to her gun. 

“Okay, worst case scenario…”  Shaw said as she settled down on her knees. 

She lifted up the first card. 

Root squinted.  She wasn't exactly sure what significance ‘Skyfall’ had to anything.  The Machine was giving her the equivalent of a shrug through her implant, and Root's nose crinkled. 

“We’re blown."  Shaw said solemnly, "They’ve seen Daniella on the news and assume we’re murdering kidnappers.  We blow up the house, you take Daniella on the motorcycle parked behind 308 while I cover your 20.  You rendezvous with John somewhere in Jersey and work with Harold to get tickets to Kosovo.” 

Both of Root’s eyebrows shot straight up.

Shaw’s expression was dead serious as she slapped down the index card and took up another, this one with the word ‘Solace’ scribbled on it. 

“Slightly better scenario—they recognize her but don’t turn into a mob fast enough to warrant an explosion, so I pull out my P90TR to keep them back and bust a few heads while you take Daniella back across the street.  Take the car to meet up with Reese.” 

“You brought the submachine guns?”  Root's eyes darted toward the closet that was now securely locked…somehow not feeling any better about it.  

Shaw just smirked as she slapped down that index card and took up the next one ‘Royale’.

“Or, maybe, only one or two of them recognize her—enough that we could neutralize the threat without anyone noticing…In that case, you keep everyone distracted while I—“ 

Root reached out and gripped Shaw’s wrist, her smile soft.  “Sameen…I meant what I said before, you don’t have to impress me.” 

“I have thirty more of these.”  Shaw said, unmoved. 

Root’s smile deepened, her left eyebrow quirking slightly. 

“Are there really that many Bond films?” 

“Yes.  And they’re all great.”  Shaw said firmly. 

Root laughed a little and patted Shaw’s hand. 

“I’m glad you’ve thought of everything, Sweetie…it’s good to be prepared.”  Root said, dropping her voice a little lower. 

Shaw eyed her, pretty sure she knew where this is going. 

“Yeah, well, that’s the point, Root.”  Shaw snapped. 

Root just grinned a little broader, “You really know how to make me feel safe.” 

Shaw rolled her eyes, ignoring the fact that Root was slowly creeping closer, leaning across the coffee table. 

“But you know…I think you forgot something.”  Root whispered. 

“What are you talking about?”  Shaw demanded hotly. 

Root giggled and tilted her head so she could whisper directly in Shaw’s ear. 

“You know I would _never_ leave you behind, Sweetie…”  Root whispered softly. 

Shaw snorted, but didn’t comment. 

Root just smiled and pulled back a little so she could look into Shaw’s eyes for a moment. 

“And…you forgot all about Bear.” 

Whatever semblance of smugness that had resided in Shaw’s face immediately drained away and her eyes snapped down to her cards. 

“What?  No!”

Root sat back on her haunches and laughed. 

"Don't worry, Sweetie, I'm sure Bear will forgive you."  

"How could I miss that?"  Shaw demanded, glaring at her flashcards in fury.  She had thought of _everything_.  Had charted every course of action.  Had accounted for all of the neighbors and even tipped off police if it came to that.  But she had forgotten her _handsome man_.  It was betrayal, plain and simple.

"Maybe it's your fault he's not in the family portrait."  Root teased with one of her signature smirks.  

“Shut up, Root.  He doesn’t even like you.”  Shaw growled without looking up.  Shaw was appalled by Root's ability to turn every conversation into flirtatious banter, even something as serious as this.  And she was frustrated that she could already feel that familiar desire in her blood. 

Now was definitely not the time. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, he loves me.”  Root claimed with a dismissive toss of her curls.  

Shaw clenched her jaw.  Sexual attraction be damned, she was not going to let anyone move in on her dog. 

She was his favorite person, dammit. 

“No way, Root.  Bear is mine.”  Shaw challenged. 

Root smirked and tilted her head.  She looked down at Shaw with a mixture of amusement and bloodlust…or maybe it was just lust, Shaw couldn’t quite tell since she refused to tilt her head to look up at Root properly. 

“Okay, Sweetie…I’ll make you a deal…you can have the dog, but I want my rug.”  Root laid out carefully, emphasizing each and every word. 

Shaw rolled her eyes. 

“For the last time, Root, I don’t have your stupid rug!”

"Liar."  Root immediately shot her down.

"Stop changing the subject!"  Shaw snarled in frustration.  "We have a very serious situation to prepare for."

“I hate to disappoint you, Sameen."  Root chuckled.  "But Kat's party won't exactly be very high risk.  It's just a gathering of mediocre, suburban couples who have very little to care about outside their consumer driven lives.  I doubt Daniella will be recognized.  The picture the news outlets have of her is two years old…if we hide her curls and lie convincingly enough…people want to believe what they’re confronted with.  If we tell them we adopted her from France and love her very much, they’ll believe us.  Besides, we usually do our best when we just wing it, right?”  Root asked. 

Shaw glowered, her fingers spread on the table top as she tried to regain control of her breathing. 

“No.  This is why you get shot all the time, Root.  The Machine tells you what to do seconds before you have to do it, and she never gives you an exit strategy…” 

“There’s always an exit strategy, Sameen.  I usually just find mine once I am actually caught up in the moment…the best plans are constantly evolving.”  Root said with a shrug. 

Shaw rolled her eyes. 

“I’m still going to rig their house just in case.”  Shaw muttered as she stacked her cards up again. 

“Sameen, please promise me you won’t kneecap anyone at this party.  No one at Kat’s party is going to be a threat.”  Root said encouragingly.   

“How do you know?”  She knew even as she said the words that she shouldn’t have asked. 

Root’s face lit up and she smiled slyly. 

“Our hosts, Katrina and David Stern, will be hosting our welcoming party at their home, 308 Walnut Lane.  Katrina has never worked a day in her life, but her husband, Dave is an aspiring lawyer—though I doubt he’ll ever make partner at Blanchet and Lake…he cheated on his LSAT.  But, they’ve invited all the big names in Flower Hill, including Diane and Bill Peterson, who live at 307 Walnut Lane with their two sons, and the Russels down at 302 Walnut Lane who happen to be siphoning cable from their neighbors the Beiriggs…” 

“Alright, alright.  You don’t have to show off.”  Shaw snapped, rubbing her temples.

"Trust me, Sameen.  All we have to do is stick to our cover.”  Root soothed with a laugh in her smile. 

Shaw glared at her. 

"You can do what you want, Root…make friends with the Desperate Housewives, play Mother of the Year, I don’t really care, but _I_ do the protecting the way _I_ see fit.”  Shaw snorted and glanced pointedly at her weapon. 

“You could try to use your words.”  Root pointed out, reaching out to pick up one of Shaw’s flashcards.  “Wasn’t that the point of this one…Quantum Royale?” 

Shaw snatched the index card out of Root’s fingers, appalled.

“You know for a nerd, you’re pretty dumb.  ‘Quantum of Solace’ and ‘Casino Royale’ are two completely different animals…you can’t just lump them together.”  Shaw said with a shake of her head. 

Root’s eyebrows rose and her smile stretched into an all out grin.

“I’m sorry to be such a disappointment to you, Shaw.  But they are all the same to me.  A new threat, a new girl, some explosions and big guns, and then at the last minute Scottie beams Jimmy up just in the nick of time.” 

Shaw’s stony exterior cracked slightly to reveal a rather dark expression of complete and utter scorn.

“Okay, that’s Star Trek and now you’re really bordering on insurrection.”

“Insurrection?”  Root asked, beaming. 

It wasn’t often nerd Shaw came out to play, and Root was loving every minute of it. 

“It’s Bond, Root.  James Bond.  Everybody knows that.  You can’t call him Jimmy.”  Shaw said in all seriousness. 

“Why not?”  Root asked innocently. 

Shaw’s eyes narrowed. 

“Because, Root, it goes against everything that is decent and right in the universe and you can’t—”  Shaw stopped when she saw the bemused look Root was giving her. 

Shaw’s dark eyes grew even darker. 

“It would be like me calling you _Sammy._ ”  Shaw spat out the name with as much derision as she could muster.  “It just doesn’t work.”

Root laughed, a deep laugh that made a crinkle appear between her eyebrows that Shaw hadn’t noticed before.  She glared at it, wishing Root would stop being so adorable in her stupidity. 

“You’re sure no one calls him Jimmy?  None of his friends call—”  Root started to ask as she struggled to catch her breath.  Shaw’s mouth barely moved.

“No.”

Root pouted.

“That’s weird.”  She judged. 

“Why?  He’s not five years old, Root.  Not everyone likes having a nickname.”  Shaw said with a roll of her eyes, completely missing the way Root’s smile dimmed ever so slightly. 

“Cole called you Sam.”  Root remembered almost hesitantly. 

Shaw focused on straightening her already perfectly straight stack of index cards. 

“Cole was an exception.”  Shaw said stiffly.  “After my father died, I decided to be Shaw.  Just Shaw.  Even my mother stopped calling me Sameen.” 

She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt the need to share this with Root…or even why it felt like _sharing_ instead of…well, instead of using her words to put up walls or some semblance of distance between them.

“I understand.”  Root said it quietly, but Shaw heard her all the same.  And she had to sigh at that, because it was Root—which meant that she really did understand.  And Shaw wasn’t sure what to think of that. 

Shaw was aware that Root had stopped drumming her fingers along the tabletop, the nice thrum she had felt from the vibrations had died and she glanced up to see Root’s expression, curious.

“Does it…upset you when I call you…”  Root waved her hand as if that gesture could encompass all the names she had for Shaw, because even when she limited her affectionate greetings to just Sweetie or Sameen, these terms had so many variations just through the colour of her voice.   

Shaw blinked, not sure she understood the question. 

“I don’t get upset.”  Shaw said stiffly. 

Root was watching her carefully and she dropped her eyes to the tabletop with a small, tired smile on her lips. 

“I know, Shaw.”    

After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Root stood to go. 

Shaw blinked, confused even if she wouldn’t show it.  Root never walked away when things started to get personal…she always pushed deeper, tried to goad Shaw into sharing more than she was comfortable with and then pushed some more because it was never enough.   

“Root.”  It came out as an exasperated sigh and Shaw could feel Root stop in the hallway without even turning around to look. 

“You’re an exception too.” 

Shaw could feel the temperature in the room change as if a light had been switched on or something, and in a way she knew it had…Root’s smile was enough to light many rooms. 

“Goodnight Sameen.”

Shaw was surprised that Root didn't make anything more of her confession--but she was mostly glad.  Glad that Root didn't immediately make her regret the words.   

Shaw ran a hand through her hair and sighed.  This mission was getting more and more complicated.  She couldn't quite account for the warmth that continued to simmer low in her belly, as if there were a few embers left from the fire she'd felt earlier when Root had been beneath her and she'd thought fleetingly that she might get laid...

Shaw stretched and left her useless flashcards on the coffee table.  She crossed to the master bedroom, hoping that snuggling with Bear would help soothe her frustrations--or whatever _this_ was.  

Bear looked up sleepily from his bed and whined.  Shaw collapsed on the bed and snapped her fingers, only allowing herself to breathe again when she felt Bear's warmth beside her.  Shaw stared up at the ceiling and absently ran her fingers through her dog's fur. 

After several quiet moments, Shaw's breathing evened out.  She forced her eyes shut and waited impatiently for sleep to take her.  She didn't want to think about Root anymore, about how distracting she was or how many of her own rules Shaw broke just for Root. Thinking about it only gave Shaw headaches.  And stupid dreams.    

Bear yawned heavily and rested his head on Shaw's stomach; he was pretty sure he could feel something like butterflies fluttering around in there.     


	25. Chapter 25

When Root awoke in the morning, the sun was shining and she was warm enough that it didn’t bother her to be waking up alone.  She yawned and stretched, smiling as the Machine fed her the weather report and other pertinent information to clear her head of grogginess. 

Root could hear the low drone of the television downstairs and she slipped out of her room to investigate, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of the carpet under her bare feet.  On the landing, Root could see down into the den—Shaw was up and watching a black and white movie.

            _Casino Royale_ , the Machine told Root.  Released in 1954.  Starring a young Barry Nelson.

Root frowned and trailed her fingers lightly along the banister.  It seemed rather early for James Bond, but she supposed she couldn’t criticize.  She actually didn’t know when the appropriate time for Bond was—maybe it was all the time. 

“Good morning.”  Shaw growled grumpily from the couch.  She was shuffling a deck of blue cards. 

“Good morning, Sameen.” 

Root smiled as she watched Shaw cut the deck with extreme concentration. 

She had no idea what game Shaw was playing, but Root would gladly take any chance to watch Shaw’s nimble fingers at work.  Harry often complained that Shaw was too forceful, too direct like a hammer—but Shaw could deal just as well in detail.

As if she could feel Root’s eyes on her, Shaw glanced up and Root’s heart stuttered when she _smiled_.  It was the kind of smile that made Root remember quite suddenly the night before and what it had felt like to taste Shaw again.  If she was being honest, she still felt a little giddy from it all—not just the taste, but from what she’d said.

Root heard a low whine and turned to see Bear scratching at the front door, ready to be let out.  Root immediately stepped down to pat his head and open the door for him. 

“Where’s Daniella?”  Root asked, remembering that the door to her child’s room had been open and the room empty. 

“I’m here, Mommy!”  Daniella’s voice called sweetly from the kitchen. 

Root smiled and hummed as she took the hall to greet her daughter. 

“Good morning, Ella bird…”  Root’s words fell flat when she reached the kitchen and saw how empty it was. 

The Machine sent a warning tone through Root’s implant.

“Ella?”  Root turned sharply toward the window, panic making her mouth go dry.  The backyard was empty.

“I’m here, Mommy!”  Daniella’s voice called just as sweetly as before. 

Root spun in place, her eyebrows shooting together in confusion when she saw Daniella standing in the middle of the living room.  The movie wasn't playing on the television anymore, instead it was a news segment.  Root blinked.  Daniella appeared as if in double, her daughter stood smiling at her before the television, and behind her the announcer was indicating an almost identical picture--one that wasn't two years old.  The words, ‘Girl Found, Police En-route’ flashed in all capital letters at the bottom of the screen. 

Root’s breath caught in her throat, but her attention was drawn to the sound of the safety of a large gun being kicked back.  Root’s eyes darted to Shaw, who was pulling her submachine gun from the closet.

“Mommy, are you alright?”  Daniella called. 

“Ella—”  Root stammered, turning again to the living room.  Her palms were sweating as she reached back instinctively for her guns—she only had one. 

What had she done with her other gun?

“Do you want an apple?”

Root’s eyes widened as she watched Daniella reach for the green apple at the top of a stack of Red Delicious from a bowl on the coffee table—a bowl that Root swore hadn’t been there a moment ago. 

“Daniella, wait!”

Even as Root reached for her, Daniella’s small fingers curled around the apple and an explosion tore right through Root’s reality--—--         

 

9:27 am

 

When Root _actually_ woke up it was with a jolt and a half-choked cry.  She tore off the blankets to give her feverish skin some relief as she sat bolt upright, panting heavily.  The Machine wasn’t gentle, but _firm,_ as She reassured Root with the broken phrase she always used when Analogue Interface had nightmares,

You are real.  You are real.  You are real.

Root’s wide-blown eyes darted instinctively to the opposite wall, but there was no soft glow from her laptop, no reassuring blinking light. 

Root’s fingers shook as she reached up to brush her hair back from her eyes—several of her curls were plastered to her sweaty forehead. 

You are real.  The fragmented, but insistent Morse code reverberated in Root’s ear.  Can you hear me?  You are real.

“Yes.”  Root said shakily.  She closed her eyes and licked her lips.  “Yes.  I can hear you.”

Root looked around the room while she listened to the opening bars to her favorite symphony and tried to calm her racing heart.  The nightmare had not been the worst Root had ever had, but it had left her muscles aching.  Root slowly unclenched her fists and stretched out her legs.  Root’s eyes lingered longest on her lava lamp while she let the music chase away any lingering fear from the nightmare. 

Root’s heart finally started to slow and she stood to cross to the window to close the curtains. 

The Machine reminded Root that it was Friday. 

The day of Kat’s party. 

Root clucked her tongue and turned away from the window.  She stopped by the bed to step into her slippers—Shaw had brought back two very plain, black pairs of slippers from her shopping excursion, but Root didn’t mind.  They were soft. 

Root padded down the hall and pushed quietly into Daniella’s room.  Her daughter was still sleeping, curled around a pillow.  Root stepped lightly and went to kiss her daughter’s forehead.  She brushed Daniella’s curls away from her cheek and hovered for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall.

“You’re real.”  Root whispered for herself. 

Daniella didn’t answer, but Root smiled anyway.   

Root pulled herself away after several quiet moments and turned to leave her daughter to slumber.  She collected the empty water glass from the bedside table and also took up the jar full of Daniella’s fireflies.  They were still alive, as far as Root could tell, even if their glow was a little subdued.  A few were crawling over the brown slices of apple at the bottom of the jar and a few were even flying lazily from one slick side of the jar to the other. 

Root crept from the room and went down the stairs. 

The house was quiet.  The television was dark and the couch was empty.  There were cards on the table, but they were Shaw’s index cards, not playing cards.  Root bit her lip and went down the hallway to the kitchen, sliding a little just for fun as she rounded the island and set the glass in the sink. 

Root heard a bark and glanced up.  Bear was barking at one of the bushes in the backyard. 

Root frowned and immediately went to step out onto the patio.  Bear lifted his head at the sound of the doors sliding open and he came bounding across the yard, barking happily. 

“Good morning, Bear—I knew you still loved me.”  Root laughed as she dropped to her knees to pat Bear’s sides and rub his belly.

"Did Shaw let you out?”  Root asked, looking around as if she expected to see Shaw hunkering down in Daniella’s playhouse or maybe to come crawling out from under the neighbor’s fence.  Neither scenario was actually very likely, but Root supposed she just liked the idea of Shaw being near. 

Bear barked at the sound of Shaw’s name and licked Root’s chin. 

“Yes, yes—I forgive you.”  Root chuckled, making a face.  “Do you want to come inside?” 

Bear rolled back onto his feet and trotted excitedly around Root’s legs as she went back to the patio doors and slid them open for him.  Bear’s tail wagged as he darted into the house, but Root didn’t follow him right away.  She took up the jar she had set on the deck railing and carefully unscrewed the lid. 

Root stood still and waited patiently for all of the fireflies to lift out of the jar.  She watched them fly away with a soft smile on her face.  Daniella could always catch more tonight, but Root knew from personal experience that a life trapped in cages or behind glass wasn’t really a life at all, and fireflies didn’t have a very long life to live to begin with. Only two months.  Or so the Machine had told her. 

Root tossed the dry, shriveled slices of apple into the bushes and went back into the house.  Bear was waiting just beyond the glass doors, his tail wagging. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming—did Shaw not feed you?  That’s unlike her.”  Root muttered as she stepped around Bear and went to drop the glass jar into the sink next to the cup. 

Bear snorted and trotted over to his empty food bowl.  He wouldn’t resort to begging, but he sat on his haunches and looked pointedly at his human with soulful brown eyes. 

Root laughed and went out to the garage to retrieve Bear’s food, her eyes going again to the couch—but it was still empty. 

Bear’s ears pricked when he heard Root rummaging around his bag of feed, but he stayed put and licked his lips.  He waited patiently for Root to come back into the kitchen, and his manners were rewarded with a scratch behind the ears after Root dumped his food into the bowl. 

“Good boy, Bear.”  Root kissed Bear’s head and left him to his food. 

She went back to the garage and closed up the bag of food. 

The Machine reminded Root that it was 9:45 and she had an important engagement in six hours and fifteen minutes.

Root went back into the kitchen and filled Bear’s water bowl.  Then she started gathering the things she would need to make pancakes.  Root thought it was only fair that if Shaw had made the dinner last night that Root should make breakfast.  And Shaw loved pancakes.  Actually, Root was pretty sure Shaw loved the syrup that she could get away with pouring over _every inch_ of her pancakes, but that was neither here nor there.    

The Machine continued to play Root’s favorite symphony while she worked in the kitchen, and it was 10:23 before Root heard Daniella on the stairs.  Her daughter came into the kitchen rubbing her eyes, still dressed in her fuzzy pajamas. 

“Good morning, Ella bird.  Did you sleep well?”  Root asked as she left her pancakes for a minute on the griddle to go lift Ella up to her hip and carry her the short distance to the breakfast nook.  Root kissed her daughter’s cheek again as she deposited her safely onto the cushions.

“Yes…”  Daniella’s eyes wandered as she reached up to scratch at her scalp, but her entire face lit up when she noticed the added guest in the kitchen.  “Bear!” 

Bear lifted his head when he heard his name and snorted. 

“Bear is eating.  Stay in your seat, Ella.”  Root cautioned, eyeing her daughter who was sliding down from the bench.  “Do you want orange juice or milk?” 

“Orange juice.”  Daniella sighed as she struggled to get back up into her chair.  Her fuzzy pajamas kept her from gaining traction, but after three attempts she managed to wriggle back up into her seat.  Daniella got situated and cast a forlorn look at her would-be playmate.  She hung her head as her mother placed a plate of pancakes in front of her—already cut into manageable pieces.

“Eat.”  Root said sternly. 

She was gentler when she came back with Daniella’s orange juice and she kissed her daughter again as she set it before her. 

Daniella sighed again and took up her fork.  She lifted brown eyes to the dog and cocked her head to one side when she saw he was looking at her.  Bear cocked his head in turn and licked his lips.  Daniella grinned and took up a piece of her pancake. 

She proffered it to the dog. 

Bear trotted over and sniffed Daniella’s hand.  He licked up the small piece of blueberry pancake and Daniella giggled. 

“Bear, no.”  Root called when she glanced up and saw that the dog had gone to investigate the new person in his vicinity.  Bear’s ears flattened and he looked up at Root. 

“Vooruit.”  Root ordered, snapping her fingers and pointing to Bear’s dishes. 

Bear let out a low whine as he turned and trotted over to his dishes. 

Root’s eyes lifted to Daniella and she tried to sound stern. 

“You can play with Bear after breakfast.”

Daniella kicked her legs and looked away. 

“Daniella.  Did you hear me?”  Root pushed.

“Yes.  Okay, Mommy.”  Daniella relented, puffing out her cheeks.

Root smiled and turned back to the last few pancakes on the griddle. 

Daniella’s eyes lifted up away from her plate to Bear again and she grinned.  She grabbed a handful of her perfectly proportioned pancake slices and threw them to Bear.  The Dutch Malinois caught up the flying pieces of food with one snap of his powerful jaws and Daniella giggled again. 

When Root turned to see what had made her daughter laugh, Daniella had her head bent down over her plate and was pushing her pieces of pancake around with her fork.  The girl was doing her very best not to grin. 

Root’s eyebrows furrowed and she put a hand on her hip. 

“Ella—what are you doing?” 

“I’m eating my breakfast, Mommy.”  Daniella answered readily as she resisted the urge to look at her partner in crime.  Bear was sitting on his haunches, his tail wagging as he waited for more people food. 

Root frowned. 

“Okay…let me know when you’re ready for another.”  Root said slowly. 

“Okay, Mommy.”  Daniella took up her cup with both hands and took a drink, turning her whole upper torso so she could look across the kitchen and make sure her mother’s back was turned again. 

Root finished the last of the pancakes and took the large stack over to the table.  She was surprised to see that Daniella had scraped her plate clean already, but even more surprised that the smell of food hadn’t summoned a grumpy Shaw—surprised enough to be a little concerned. 

Root bit her lip and turned to look down the hallway. 

“Are you alright, Mommy?”  Daniella asked, hiding her syrup covered fist under the table. 

“Fine.  I think.”  Root muttered. 

She blinked and looked down, remembering herself.

“I’m fine, Ella bird.  Here, I’ll cut you some more pancakes.”

Root leaned over Daniella and cut her another small portion.  Then she went to the refrigerator and retrieved the syrup and the orange juice.  She placed both containers on the table next to the empty plate she had set for Shaw. 

“Merci.”  Daniella chimed happily. 

Root smiled and brushed Daniella’s hair away from her face and then looked again to the empty hallway. 

“Wait here, Ella bird—and eat your breakfast.”  Root whispered as she stepped around Bear and started down the hallway.  Root knew Shaw didn’t like being woken, had a rule about dismembering those who disturbed her slumber even—the woman still stubbornly clung to the belief that she was disciplined enough to have her own internal clock like she had during her days as a Marine--but Root imagined Shaw would be _much_ angrier about missing breakfast than Root breaking another one of her silly rules.

Still, Root knocked. 

She didn’t want to risk any limbs this morning.  Not when they had a party to attend later.

“Shaw?  Shaw are you awake?”  Root called as she rapped her knuckles against the door. 

She waited, but didn’t get a response.  Not even a grunt. 

Root frowned and opened the door.  Her concern escalated to nervousness when she saw that the room was empty.  The bed was rumpled and several of the drawers in the bureau had been left open. 

Root resisted the temptation to step into the room to look under the bed or through the door into the ensuite. It was a childish notion, and one that made Root pause and question her own hasty reaction. 

She supposed she had grown used to the surety of Shaw—to having her right _here_ , close and immediate. 

But Shaw was a grown woman—and one of the few people that Root trusted. 

If she was gone, she must have had a reason to go. 

Root could think of plenty of those.  And she would trust Shaw's judgement.  Perhaps Harry needed her help.  Or she’d simply gone out for a run.  Her cover also had a job that kept normal working hours after all.  Root couldn’t expect Shaw to hang around the safe house all day, and Root could hardly expect Shaw to ask for permission.  It was hardly in her nature.

Root knew that Shaw needed her own space.  Maybe she’d felt too cramped in the house and needed to get away.  Root could understand that. 

She could _forgive_ it even...so long as Shaw came home. 

Root heard Daniella laughing and Bear barking and she blinked as she stepped back out of the empty master bedroom.  She pulled the door closed and went back into the kitchen.  It was brighter there.  


	26. Chapter 26

Detective Fusco was late getting his morning coffee. 

But it was a hot day. 

And the whole city seemed to be operating at half-speed, crawling along under the heady haze of the sun, unimpeded by clouds.  The traffic lights took too long to change, but the crowd of pedestrians hardly seemed bothered.  They just remained on the sidewalk, swaying in place, blinking lazily.  Even the cyclists in the park only appeared to peddle half-heartedly.  There was not enough urgency in the air to create a breeze. 

Everything seemed muted.  Staticky.

Shaw was careful to control her breathing as she surveyed the stalled life around her, and the corner grocer across the street in particular.  She did not mind the heat—Shaw had endured worse in Lebanon—but _waiting_ in the heat when there was so little else to draw her eye or occupy her mind, _that_ seemed a new torment.  Especially when Shaw was in desperate need of _distraction_.

Normally, Shaw could lie in wait indefinitely.  She thrived under pressure, working under the wire—but she also knew the sharp edges of patience.  Knew them intimately.  She didn’t get bored or antsy—not while working a _mission_.  Not when focus was so crucial. 

But everything about this _particular_ mission was different.  Off-center and unfocused.  Her specialized skills, her healing hands and killer instincts, didn’t seem to be enough.  She was pushed in directions that were unfamiliar, and her usual focus seemed for the first time a detriment.  She couldn’t seem to shake Root from her mind.  Her focus was supposed to be on Daniella, but she couldn’t focus on the kid without including Root and her stupid guns and her tired smile.  Root was so often a distraction—but on this mission, she was a _necessary_ one.  Shaw’s thoughts kept going back to Flower Hill and she was aware of every minute that passed in an _aching_ way. 

_What the hell was taking Fusco so long?!_

Shaw’s stomach growled as she glanced over the shoulder of the old woman feeding the pigeons at the corner.  She was dressed down and lacked any adornment save a string of dusty pearls, but the business man reading the paper beside her was wearing a flashy watch.  Shaw’s eyes narrowed and she clenched tight fists as she noted the time—she had skipped breakfast in her hurry to get to the West Village, to wait for Fusco to make his customary coffee run, and she was about four minutes away from giving up on the whole endeavor.  That precious window in which breakfast and lunch remained two separate, unadulterated meals was steadily shrinking.  Very soon, it would be ‘brunch’ hour, and Shaw had places to _be_. 

Shaw cursed quietly under her breath and tried to convince herself that storming down to the precinct would be counterproductive.  She tried to remember why she had ditched the car and her phone.  Why she had left the house before the sun had even risen.  Why she had decided Lionel was her best option over John or Zoey, two perfectly reasonable options.  Why she had promised to keep all of Root’s stupid secrets in the first place— 

She only succeeded in coming to the exasperating conclusion that she shouldn’t have left Flower Hill at all.  She prided herself on focus and calm-under-pressure planning, but this had been reckless.  She was endangering the mission for a stupid _personal_ quest.  She was being foolish.  Careless.  And worse, selfish. 

It was so unlike her.

Shaw had just kicked a little at the gravel, startling the dead-eyed pigeons and earning herself an indignant glare from the older woman intent on feeding them—when she _finally_ saw Lionel appear across the street. 

Shaw let out a huff of relief and glanced once again over the shoulder of the businessman—she still had a few minutes to spare before things got _critical_.   

She’d have to make this quick. 

The detective was unaware of his off-book appointment, much less his short-tempered associate lying in wait.  He made his way down the sidewalk and into the grocery oblivious to his shadow.  Lionel took his place in line, his eyes instinctively finding the menu, even though Shaw was pretty sure he knew it by heart.  The detectives of the 8th were long time patrons, after all.  But even if he didn’t know the seasonal flavors and permanent cup sizes available, Fusco was hardly the type to risk trying something new.  Most people were creatures of habit—and Fusco was no exception. 

Root wasn’t like that.  She seemed perfectly fine with change, needed it even.  Needed to push and pull until something broke, only then could she make it better.  Start to evolve. 

Shaw snorted at that thought, remembering the coffee table.  Root had almost broken it.  But thankfully, Shaw’s handiwork was foolhardy.

The small store was crowded, the lunchtime rush just picking up.  It was less than a quarter to noon.  No one looked up when the bell sounded to announce a flux in capacity.  Still, Shaw took a quick detour to check over her shoulder one final time.  There were several customers browsing along the long display case, surveying the breakfast items still up for sale but the line itself was quite short.  Shaw frowned when she noticed there were apples behind the glass, sliced and situated around a small container of caramel.  But they weren’t the kind of apples Root would like.  Root liked red delicious.

Shaw sidled up to the oblivious detective.  Had Lionel not taken so long to appear, Shaw might have been feeling generous enough to greet him with something other than a growl of displeasure, but she had been waiting in anxiousness for most of the morning, and she was pressed for time.  Therefore, Shaw bumped Lionel as she slid into place just behind him and grunted her non-salutation. 

“Whoa—jeez!”  Lionel nearly jumped out of his skin.  Clearly, even after several years of working with Reese and Shaw, both of whom had a habit of appearing and disappearing without warning, the detective still startled easily. 

“Calm down, Lionel, don’t make a scene.”  Shaw rolled her eyes and took a single step forward as the line inched toward the counter.  Her stomach growled.

“Sorry, jeez.”  Lionel straightened his green tie, his eyes glancing around the small space furtively.  “It’s just kinda scary when you do that, y’know?  You could give a guy a little warning—did Glasses send you?  I already told him I’m doing my best, but those Interpol suits aren’t really up to sharing—”

“No, no—Finch doesn’t know I’m here.”  Shaw voiced quickly in a low tone.  She wasn’t really listening to Lionel.  She was eyeing their surroundings.  There was no rush in the little store.  No edge.  Nothing extraordinary.  But Shaw didn’t like that there were so many potential prying eyes and ears.  This all would have been so much easier if Lionel had made his appearance at his usual time!  Why did _today_ have to be the exception?!    

Shaw glared at the security camera over the beer cooler.   

“Hey, you alright?”  Lionel asked, noticing his colleague’s angrier-than-usual expression. 

Shaw’s dark eyes immediately snapped back to the NYPD detective and she frowned, taking a deep breath.

“Just dandy.  Listen, I need you to run a name for me, Lionel.”  Shaw kept her voice light, but her tone low.  She kept glancing over her shoulder to check the clock even though she’d checked it at least a dozen times already—hot, lazy days were supposed to slide slowly by, but Shaw was working against the clock and she knew it.  She could feel the weight of Root’s expectations pushing against her skin, whispering that the _party starts four o’clock_. 

Shaw flexed her fingers, ignoring the itch that begged to shoot something—starting with that stupid clock. 

She’d be gunning for the security camera next.

“Gee, anything else, Primadonna?”  Lionel asked, his voice rough with sarcasm as he shuffled his feet to keep up with the unhurried line. 

Shaw rolled her eyes.  She was not in the mood for the detective’s dry retorts. 

“I’m sorry—do you have anything else more pressing?”  Shaw growled. 

She knew almost as soon as she said the words that she probably should have punished Lionel with silence instead.  Fusco had no qualms _oversharing_.  All he needed was an invitation—and because Shaw was so _distracted_ , she’d given him one. 

Shaw blamed Root. 

“Gee, let me think, what has the whole city on high alert?  What about that triple over on A-Hundred and First?  Sound familiar?  I’ve only been pulling doubles all weekend.  Captain’s orders.  He’s got the whole squad working overtime.  He’s been calling me every hour—and if it’s not him, it’s Glasses.  Don’t you and Wonder Boy talk to each other anymore?  I thought he said it was all hands on deck for this one?”  Lionel demanded, sure that Shaw must be pulling his leg—Doctor Small and Angry did have a dark sense of humor. 

Lionel sighed and shook his head, “That poor little girl.  It makes ya wonder, ya know, where is the justice in the world?”

Shaw frowned at the question—a powerful wave of anger surging through her that she could _not_ account for.  Justice for Daniella?  Justice for Root?  Where exactly was she supposed to find that?

Shaw huffed through her nose and glanced again at the clock.

She was wasting time.  _Fusco_ was wasting her time with his stupid questions and his stupid routine—why couldn’t he just flash his badge and cut ahead of the line?  It would save them all a lot of time and headache.  It was easier _not thinking_ about Root when she was on the move. 

Shaw lashed out to snag a bag of candy from the nearby display, thinking maybe she would feel less like shooting a certain someone if she had something between her teeth to chew on.

“Lionel—just shut up and get your damn coffee.” 

Something in Shaw’s tone seemed to bring a chill to the atmosphere, conversations around the store halted abruptly and the a few customers cast curious glances toward the detective and his grumpy companion. 

Only Fusco seemed unperturbed.  He held up his hands in apology as he stepped around the woman ahead of them who was packing up her purse. 

“Hey, don’t get all worked up.  I’m only the one you’re asking for a favor.”  Lionel reminded his associate as he shook his head and turned toward the menu, finally leaning against the counter as he considered the options that were exactly the same as they had been in all the years he'd started his mornings here, “Good morning, yeah, I’d like a—” 

“That’ll be $2.70, Detective.”  The cashier interrupted Fusco with a smile as he pushed a medium black coffee across the counter, “Can I get you anything else?” 

“Whoa, wait—how did you know—” Lionel flummoxed, his eyes boggling as he grasped the Styrofoam with both hands—he half-expected it to disappear into thin air or perform some similar miracle. 

Fusco hardly noticed that Shaw had come up to the counter beside him.

Shaw would never admit it, but the detective had had a point.  Shaw was not going to grovel—but she _did_ need Lionel’s help.  So she tried to sound less abrasive,

“We’re in a hurry, Fusco.”    

Fusco blinked as he glanced from Shaw to his coffee and back again, trying to work out this mystery.  He finally caved a little and nodded as he reached into his jacket’s inner pocket for his wallet. 

“Yeah, okay—alright.  $2.70, you said?”

“Well—actually, with the jerky and candy, it’s $11.29.”  The young man in the apron amended apologetically. 

“What?  What candy?!”  Fusco demanded even as he turned his head to see Shaw tearing into a generous package of jerky.  When Shaw caught his eye, he swore he saw her smirk.

Fusco glared at his companion as he tossed fifteen dollars on the counter, but his frustration was easily overtaken by curiosity when he noticed the oddly packaged candy tucked under Shaw’s arm.

“What even are those?  Soviet Tootsie Rolls?”  Fusco asked.

Shaw glared at the detective for a full fifteen seconds before she started for the door, choosing not to waste time with any more idle chatter.  On the one hand, Shaw was anxious to get back to Flower Hill and fortify the safe house--but she was much less eager for the fast-approaching _party_.  Root seemed to think that the meet-the-neighbors ritual was a necessary aspect of their cover, despite the high probability that they would be subject to boring small talk, sub-par beer, and an overall lack of excitement. 

Shaw would much rather nix the whole thing, maybe have the whole family call in sick—all in the interest of protecting the kid, of course.  But at the same time, Shaw was not sure she was ready to be alone with Root again.  Last night there had been— _feelings_.  Who knew what could happen next? 

Maybe a few room temperature beers and awkward jokes around the grill would be the perfect distraction.  

“Your change, sir.”  The cashier announced cheerily.

“Yeah, yeah—hey.  Wait up!”  Fusco dropped several of the coins back on the counter to the consternation of the young cashier as he tried to move after Shaw.  Lionel’s face contorted into a comical expression as he slowed his jog and half-skipped in an attempt to snag some napkins without spilling his coffee.

Shaw watched this all transpire with only the thinnest of smiles as she chewed impatiently on her beef jerky.  Her thoughts had gone back to Root—she wondered if the hacker had found her note and let Bear inside.  She hoped Root had thought to feed him--Bear needed at least three full separate, unadulterated meals a day.  If not there would be _con_ _sequences_. 

Shaw's sour mood slowly started to dissipate as she considered all of the ways she might punish Root for neglecting the dog.  Her frown even softened into a mischievous smirk.  

“You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice.”  Lionel grumbled as he stepped outside with Shaw.  He had to squint under the harshness of the sun.

“For what?”  Shaw demanded, focused on her breakfast that would also have to serve as her lunch.  “You made me wait.”

“Wait?  Wait for what?”

Shaw clenched her jaw, annoyance plain on her face. 

“Nevermind.  This was a mistake.”

“Hey—slow down, where’s the fire?”  Lionel called to Shaw’s retreating figure.  He had to jog to catch up to the short but surprisingly agile woman.  Some of Fusco’s coffee splashed up on his tie, but he didn’t slow down until he’d caught Shaw’s sleeve—he was careful to grab the cloth and not the Persian herself.  He’d been punched one too many times to risk it. 

“Look—we’ve been doing this awhile now, and I know better than to ask questions, but—just tell me, are you in some kinda trouble, Shaw?”  Fusco asked earnestly, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening in concern. 

Shaw’s lips twitched slightly, slowly coming out of her frown.  The detective looked so sincere—and so utterly clueless.  _That_ was why she had decided to come to Fusco.  No questions.  A bit of grumbling, which was annoying.  But always sincerity in the end.  Fusco was always stumbling, oblivious.  But he was useful. 

And strangely loyal. 

“Thanks for breakfast, Lionel.”  Shaw chuckled as she slipped out of Fusco’s hold without any effort.   

Fusco blinked after her for a moment, confusion still plain on his face. 

“Hey!  What about that name?”  Fusco called out.  But it was pointless.  Shaw was already gone. 

Fusco sighed and lifted his coffee to his lips, sipping it sparingly as he made his way back toward the corner grocery.  It had a colorful awning that would offer some shade.  Fusco smacked his lips as he took up an out-of-the-way position.  Coffee always tasted better in unbearable heat. 

Lionel freed one hand to grab the napkin in his pocket so he could wipe down the sides of his cup and clear it of spilled droplets, but he froze when he noticed the barista had gotten his name wrong.  He should have known not to trust a ready-made order! 

Lionel cursed under his breath and stuffed the dirtied napkins back in his pocket, his mood now permanently soured.  That punk behind the counter had mistaken him for someone named Franklin Lambert. 


	27. Chapter 27

Flower Hill was experiencing the _ideal_ weather for a block party.  Sunshine that would last well into the evening, hardly a cloud in sight, and a gentle enough breeze to make it all bearable.  The planning committee members were tripping over themselves trying to apologize to Kat for ever having made any racket about the short notice—they should never have doubted.  Friday was the perfect day. 

Kat was gracious and forgiving, of course, so long as her doubting neighbors made up for their _skepticism_ with hard work—there was a lot to do. 

Back garden gates were thrown open and awnings extended.  Tiki torches and pinwheels alike were dug out of sheds and attics.  Several grills were scrubbed clean.  Pool covers were pulled back while a horde of minivans made quick trips to the grocery store.  Picnic tables and mismatched patio furniture was lugged down the street, all under the careful eye of the party coordinator, Kat Stern. 

The entire neighborhood was abuzz with activity, and all of the traffic led, one way or another, to 308 Walnut Lane, where the party would later take place. 

They were making a terrible racket; and there was no escaping it. 

Even from three doors down, Root could hear Kat’s shrill orders carrying on the breeze, though she did her best to ignore it.  She didn’t want to think about the party that was being prepared in order to welcome the _entire_ Arundel family to Flower Hill.  Not when a crucial member of that family was, for all intents and purposes, missing.

Though Root was doing her best not to think about _that_ either.

But she couldn’t help it.  The night before—when she’d been _strategizing_ with Shaw, Root had felt something like excitement.  When Shaw had pulled out her stack of flashcards, Root had been surprised, to say the least, but she’d mostly been pleased—every single one of Shaw’s imagined scenarios relied on Root and Shaw working together.  It was, in a way, an acknowledgement on Shaw’s part that despite her harsh words about ‘my mission’ and ‘Root’s mistakes’—as if they could ever truly be separate entities—she had accepted that they needed each other.  For the time being. 

It wasn’t much, but Root had taken it gladly. 

For a moment she’d been able to look beyond the dismal prospect of sickly sweet neighborliness to see an _opportunity_ …an opportunity to share something with Shaw beyond—beyond gunfire and Decima agents.  Not that Root didn’t _enjoy_ getting stitched up by Shaw’s ever-so-steady hands, it was just that she had thought maybe this time they could—have a _different kind_ of fun.

Margaritas after Daniella was asleep.

Sick Bear on the mailman. 

Pull out the P90TR to take care of the neighborhood squirrels.

Expose the cheating husband and the couple committing Tax Fraud down the street.

Plant mines in the neighbor’s garden. 

…maybe sleep under the stars.

Root knew it was foolish.  The smog from the city made it impossible to see more than a handful of stars.  And Shaw would probably roll her eyes if Root ever dared suggest it anyway. 

But Root had been running her whole life.  She didn’t really know what it was like to—be a part of a community.  To belong. 

And she couldn’t help but feel that the Machine had sent them here, to the heart of suburbia, for a reason.  To keep Daniella safe, obviously.  But Root was discovering that there was something _safe_ and incredibly _beautiful_ in the mundane.  She felt it when she fell asleep with Daniella curled up at her side or watched her playing fetch with Bear.  It wasn’t a life she particularly fancied for herself, but she thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for Daniella. 

Root jumped when she heard the house phone ringing.  But instead of leaping in anticipation, this time Root’s heart simply sank.  She was very seriously contemplating ripping the phone from the wall.  It was the third call this morning—and both times before Root had eagerly raced through the house to snatch up the phone before the second ring, hoping to hear Shaw, already forgiving her—and both times she’d been disappointed.  

This time, she let the phone ring itself out. 

Daniella twisted slightly in Root’s grip, trying to look over her shoulder. 

“Aren’t you going to answer the telephone, Mommy?”

“No,” Root sighed, nudging Daniella’s shoulder back in place, “it’s probably Kat again—making sure we haven’t gotten cold feet.” 

“Oh.”  Daniella said sagely. 

The child’s thin eyebrows furrowed together and she glanced down at her feet as best she could without moving her head too much—she had been reprimanded more than once already for squirming.  She was wearing sparkly gel slippers, but her feet were warm enough as far as she could tell.  Daniella lifted her brown eyes to Bear to see if he had anything to say on the matter, but the Dutch Malinois only huffed through his nose and pawed forlornly at the bit of rope that until quite recently had been in play for tug-of-war.

Daniella felt guilty for abandoning her new friend mid-game and squirmed just a little to test her mother’s hold. 

“Avez-vous presque terminé?”

Root rolled her eyes and carefully tugged Daniella closer, careful not to tug on the strands of hair she was currently plaiting. 

“I _would be_ if you would hold still, s'il vous plait.”  Root chuckled. 

Daniella sighed and glanced helplessly at Bear.  The large dog dropped onto his haunches with an indignant snort. 

“Don’t you start.”  Root warned, shooting Bear a look. 

Daniella sighed and squinted up at the baby-blue sky. 

“Mommy?”  Daniella ventured. 

“Yes, Ella Bird?” 

“When is Sah-meen coming back?” 

Root’s fingers faltered slightly but she recovered quickly. 

“That’s a good question.”  She murmured, shooting a glare over Daniella’s head to no one in particular.   

“Will she be back in time for the party?”  Daniella asked, wriggling a little more now that she couldn’t feel her mother’s fingers raking through her curls. 

“I certainly hope so.”  Root used the same dry tone as she ran her fingers along Daniella’s left braid, checking for stray wisps. 

She swore she could hear the Machine sigh.

Secondary Asset has not connected to network.

This was perhaps the fifth time Root had been informed of this unfortunate technicality. 

“Does she at least _have_ her phone?”  Root demanded.

Daniella frowned and turned around, the two braids on either side of her head swinging,

“Mommy?”

Root held up a hand. 

“Give me a minute, please, Ella bird, I’m busy.”

The Machine—She sounded almost hesitant as she sent the negative tone through Root’s implant. 

Root’s shoulders immediately tensed.

“Do you know if she’s alright?”    

“Mommy, can I play with Bear now?”  Daniella begged, unable to keep up the pretense of patience when her mother started talking to the nonexistent clouds.

Root blinked, focusing on her daughter’s hopeful face.

“I—Yes.  Of course you can.  I’m sorry, Ella, I—”

Daniella had no need to wait for an apology.  She shrieked in delight and ran over to resume her game of tug of war with her incredibly eager companion. 

“Teder, Bear.  Gentle!”  Root called, a wave of fondness finally starting to chase away her anxiety as she watched her daughter at play.    

“Yoohoo!  Sam?  Are you back there?” 

Root was taken completely by surprise and half-pulled her gun from her waistband before she realized it was just Kat hailing her from a neighbor’s yard—clearly the woman had no boundaries.  And how the woman had managed to give herself a boost of over three feet so she could peer over the fence, Root had no idea.  She shoved her gun back down and forced a smile as she rose from the patio steps and crossed to the fence-row. 

She had to swallow thickly or risk sounding unpleasant,

“Hello, Kat.  How are you?”  Root asked. 

She winced when the woman she had been trying to avoid all morning let out a squeal. 

“Oh, I’m _marvelous_ darling, how are you?  I know we spoke earlier, but I just wanted to check with you—do you prefer Raspberry Ice or Chocolate Mousse?  I told Dave I would ask this morning when I called, but we were having such a nice chat that it slipped my mind and now I’m horrified to find that I’m not sure which would please you…”  The woman gabbed.

“Yes, well—you really shouldn’t worry, Kat.  I’m quite easy to please.”  Root lied.  She had been told more than once before that she was picky.  Her mother in particular had found her insufferable.  But Root didn’t care.  She knew what she liked.  And she wasn’t afraid to demand it. 

“Well, that’s good to know.”  Kat chuckled in a low tone—it could have been Root’s imagination, but she was fairly certain that Kat was deliberately lowering her voice.

Root cleared her throat and turned her head just as Daniella slammed into her legs, nearly plowing her over. 

“What do you say, sweet girl—what kind of dessert would you like to have at Kat’s party?”  Root asked as she picked a leaf out of Daniella’s braid.  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Bear had slipped into the playhouse—perhaps he was taking cover after hearing Kat’s excruciating laugh.  _Smart dog_. 

“Why hello, Miss Daniella, I love what you’ve done with your hair.”  Kat crooned with a wink. 

Daniella’s brown eyes widened as she gazed up at Kat—the child wanted to answer her mother’s question, but she was torn between loyalties.  Loyalty to her other mommy and loyalty to the hostess of the party she was so looking forward to. 

Daniella ducked more into her mother’s shadow and dropped her eyes down to the dirt. 

“Grilled cheese.”  She muttered, digging the toe of her slipper into the dirt. 

“What was that?  _Grilled cheese_?  Oh, that is just precious!”  Kat roared with laughter, amazed at the peculiarities of foreign children. 

“Grilled cheese.”  Root repeated, glancing down at Daniella with a frown.  “That isn’t exactly a dessert, Ella bird.” 

Daniella took a shaky breath and gripped her mother’s jeans all the more tightly.  To her four year old mind, admitting that she preferred Sameen’s gourmet cooking to whatever fairy cakes and other delicacies awaited them at Miss Kat’s party was tantamount to drawing battle lines—she feared that at any moment her mother was going to inform her that she was no longer invited to the party. 

Though to Daniella’s mind—it was a worthy sacrifice.  Miss Kat had such scary eyes.  And Sameen wasn't _always_ a meanie.  

“Oh my goodness, your little girl is just too cute, Sam!”  Kat wheezed. 

Root nodded with fake sweetness, but offered no reply. 

“Anyway, I’ve got to run—so much still to do!  But don’t you worry—I’ll see if Dave can whip together a grilled cheese or two just for you!”  Kat promised, winking down at Daniella. 

The child looked uncertain and reached up for Root’s hand. 

“And we’re all looking forward to seeing that wife of yours again.”  Kat extrapolated with a little too much enthusiasm.  “She will be joining us, won’t she?” 

Root knew she was fishing for more secrets. 

“Oh, Sameen’s very excited.  She’s promised to pick up some wine on her way in from work.”  Root smiled brightly, even though she knew her voice sounded flat.   

“You know you don’t have to do that!”  Kat squealed.  “This party is for you, Sam.  Just bring yourselves!” 

“I was taught never to come to a party empty-handed.”  Root said as she fought the urge to take several steps back—to make it a little more obvious that the conversation was on its last legs.

“How quaint.”  Kat gushed. 

“We’ll see you this afternoon then, Kat.”  Root promised with forced warmth. 

“Well I can’t wait, it’s going to be the most exciting event of the season—”

“—I wouldn’t want to hold you up.  I know how busy you must be.”  Root was losing her patience. 

“Oh, quite right, dear, quite right—Scott nearly backed over my begonias when he brought over the ice cream maker and then Cheryl forgot the extra table cloths—it has been one small disaster after another, I can tell you.”  Kat explained conversationally. 

“I can imagine.”  Root said tightly. 

“But don’t you worry about a thing, Sam.  It’ll all work out, if I have anything to say about it.”  Kat straightened her pink cardigan as she said this and with a final meaningful wink, she disappeared. 

Root’s smile slowly faded and her shoulders sagged.  She was suddenly _exhausted_. 

“That lady talks a lot.”  Daniella observed, still clutching Root’s hand. 

Root chuckled without mirth, but then tried to rouse herself for Daniella’s sake. 

“Hey, I think Bear’s got a head start on hide-and-seek…”

Daniella’s face immediately lit up, latching on to the new game.  She darted off toward the porch, calling out to her canine companion. 

Root shook her head, grateful that Daniella was so easily distracted.  She wondered, fleetingly, how long that would last.  How long they could hope to keep Daniella from sinking into grief?  For now, it was an easy game.  But at some point--Root feared Daniella may grow tired of playing. 

Root, however, was not so easily diverted.  She couldn’t shake her worry, no matter how often she told herself to trust Shaw.  She _knew_ Shaw wouldn’t abandon them—but why didn’t she have her phone?

“Will you patch me through to Harry, please?”

Even though Root asked this in soft tone so Daniella wouldn't hear, she was immediately gratified with a dial tone.  She didn’t have to wait long to hear the flustered voice of Harold Finch coming through her implant. 

“H-Hello?  Miss Groves?  Is that—Is that you?  Is everything alright?” 

“Good morning, Harry.  You wouldn’t have happened to have heard from Shaw this morning, have you?”  Root asked even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.  She caught herself holding her breath.   

“What?  Oh—well, no.  I can’t say that I have.  Is she…is she not with you and Miss Christenson?” 

“That’s a shame.”  Root drawled, ignoring Harold’s question entirely.  “If you do happen to see her—would you please tell her to call me as soon as she has a chance?  We seem to be having some communication issues.” 

“Oh, well—of course, Miss Groves.  I’d be happy to.  Actually, if you wouldn’t mind holding, I could call John to see if he has seen her.”  Harold supplied.

Root bit her lip.

“I would appreciate that.” 

“Very well—one moment, Miss Groves.” 

Root’s lips twitched as she made her circuit around the yard, alternatively watching Daniella and Bear playing tag and the street while the Machine gave her updates on Harold’s conversation with John. 

 

Admin greets Primary Asset and inquires into Primary Asset’s state of being.

 

Primary Asset <grunts>.

Primary Asset questions Admin as to reason for call. 

Primary Asset questions Admin as to condition of Irrelevant Number: docx.409228 D.A.C. exe.(dependent_of_Analogue*Interface)//:codename Little+Ella+Princess.

Primary Asset questions Admin as to if he is needed urgently with emphasis on urgently.

 

Admin inquires as to whether Primary Asset has knowledge of Secondary Asset.

 

Primary Asset questions Admin as to reason for inquiry.

 

Admin explains to Primary Asset that Secondary Asset is in high demand and not connected to network.

 

Primary Asset <grunts>.

Primary Asset inquires into how much trouble Secondary Asset is in.

 

Admin asserts no knowledge.

 

Primary Asset expresses intent to find Secondary Asset.

 

While Root was appreciative of the Machine’s rather comical rendition, it in no way distracted her from the cold realization that they were no closer to finding Shaw. 

Which could only mean—Shaw didn’t want to be found.  

“Miss Groves?”  Harold’s voice crowded out the Machine’s dulcet tones and Root caught herself clenching fists. 

“Harry.”  Root flexed her fingers and drummed them along the deck railing. 

“John assured me he would look for Miss Shaw, but he was wondering what exactly he should tell her if he should find her.”  Finch sounded almost apologetic.

“Just tell her—”  Root paused, she could hear laughter and clapping from down the street.  Clearly the party was coming together, despite all of the little ‘disasters’ that had fallen their way.

Root closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.   

“Just remind her that the party starts at 4—and tell her I would appreciate it if she wasn’t late.”  Root finally said.

“I will see what I can do, Miss Groves.” 

Root nodded, “Thank you, Harry.” 

 

The line went dead.  But Analogue Interface did not appear comforted. 

 

Although Secondary Asset was not connected to Admin’s private and secure network, the Machine was scanning all available city-wide security feeds for Secondary Asset’s unique facial signature, paying particular attention to Five Star Steakhouses and the Beatrice Lily Foodtruck. 

There were no viable matches.

 

However, the Machine had determined that there was a 92% chance that Secondary Asset had not left the city, and a 48% chance that Secondary Asset was sharing a location with another Known Asset. 

Given this probability, the Machine began sifting through the most recent digital data of known associates, most specifically, soundbytes:

Admin

Primary Asset

Analogue Interface

NYPD Asset

<irrel> 013-00-6062

<rel> Control

<rel> Special Counsel

 

Until She happened upon Secondary Asset’s voice through a cellular device located on the fringes of the Fitzhugh Quinnell Preparatory School,

 

“—sure this one is good?”  Secondary Asset voice match.

“How should I know?”  The voice of Ms. Genrika Zhirova shot back, “You didn’t _specify_ that it had to be fancy!”

“No, no—it’s fine.  Thanks.”  Secondary Asset assured Ms. Zhirova.

“So where were you this time?  Decommissioning missiles in Syria?  Did you just get back from Peru?”

“No, nothing that flashy.  Unfortunately.”  Secondary Asset lamented

“Oh.”

There was static for a moment, as if fabric brushed over the microphone embedded in the phone.

“The next time you do do something flashy though, can I come?”

“Don’t you have Latin to get to or something?”  Secondary Asset did not sound annoyed.

“I _missed_ Latin because I was _waiting for you_.”  Gen stressed.

“Yeah, sorry about that.  I was held up—next time we really will go to the museum.”  Secondary Asset’s tone expressed a solemn vow.

“Okay—and bring Bear.  I miss him.”  Gen called.

“Oh, I almost forgot—” Secondary Asset’s voice was growing fainter, indicating larger distance between Secondary Asset and microphone.

“Soya Bars!  You remembered!”

“Later, Kiddo.”

 

Even though Secondary Asset’s voice was lost to static, the Machine hummed in relief. 

She could finally alert Analogue Interface that Secondary Asset was returning to 314 Walnut Lane.  <home>.


	28. Chapter 28

Shaw wasn’t quite sure what to expect when she returned to Flower Hill. 

It wasn’t the party exactly.  Shaw had more or less begun to accept that Root was right—Kat’s party was as _harmless_ as it was superfluous.  Which of course only made Shaw despise the prospect of attending even more.  Because Root could be downright _insufferable_ when she was smug in her little victories. 

And the _one thing_ Shaw did not need at the party was another distraction. 

Her objective was still the same—protect the girl. 

And Shaw had no doubts she could get Daniella through the party in one piece—she’d just have to keep her away from sharp objects, under-cooked meat, and the more aggressive of the neighborhood's snot-nosed kids.  The neighbors presented as nonthreats she would not _enjoy_ humoring, but she knew she _could_.  Root on the other hand—

Shaw sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter. 

Root was an unknown.  She wasn’t exactly a _threat_ , but her attitude could negatively or positively impact Shaw’s efforts to keep things civil. 

And Shaw didn’t like letting Root have that power.  

But she couldn’t deny that she had it, either. 

John had been waiting for Shaw when she’d gone back for the family car and he’d warned her that there was trouble in paradise, that she should be _mildly concerned_ for her own safety.  Which was cryptic even for John, but not entirely surprising, given Shaw’s track record thus far in _supposed_ suburban paradise with the hacker.  But even given that Shaw was constantly falling short of Root's high expectations, and she'd become accustomed to that sad little smile her pretend wife had mastered, it did not negate the fact that Shaw had felt—a pang of _guilt_ , to hear John's prognosis, even if she knew she didn’t _have_ to.  She had left a note after all.  It wasn’t her fault if Root hadn’t been creative enough to find it.

She hadn’t meant to make Root worry.  Especially after the things that had been said last night, she didn’t want Root to think that she—wasn’t sincere.

Shaw clenched her jaw and turned onto Walnut Lane.

She was almost immediately forced to slow the car to a crawl, however, because their quiet street had been _overrun_ while she’d been away.  Overrun with couples both young and old dressed for causal showing off in spite of the heat.  Some of them were even toting their wild offspring.  They had flooded the street, casserole dishes and grocery bags bursting with last-minute purchases.  Several of them paused to wave. 

Shaw reflexively slammed on the brake, not in shock but rather— _bemusement_.   

All this time at the safehouse, Shaw had been able to handle small doses of suburban life, but it suddenly flashed garish and overwhelming before her eyes.  The suffocating— _cheeriness_ of it all.  People were clumped together on the sidewalks and in lawns, just—talking.  As if they didn't have anywhere pressing to be.  The street had been cleared—even the cars that Shaw had passed that morning on her way to the city had been pulled up into garages and driveways—and someone had taken it upon themselves to wrap nearly all the trees lining the street with strings of lights. 

The sun was still high overhead, but Walnut Lane was aglow with at least a thousand lights of its own. 

Shaw tore her eyes away and glanced down at the digital clock in the dash to reassure herself that the party was still half an hour away—that she still had time to determine whether or not Root was going to make this night infinitely harder than it had to be.

Shaw kept her eyes deliberately forward, ignoring the sunny faces and enthusiastic waves, and sped around the last few obstacles to get to the safehouse drive.  Shaw parked the car and grabbed her bag from the backseat, cringing when she heard music coming from down the lane.  Shaw grimaced and prayed there was at least one decent grillman on duty at 308—she was going to need something more substantial than beef jerky to get her through the ordeal ahead, and she couldn't stock up on chips and beer alone.  She needed to believe there would be decent burgers at this gathering--otherwise, _what was the point_?!

Shaw jogged up the drive and didn’t bother knocking.  She pushed into the house with an apology on her lips, though the wording wasn’t as clear in that regard,

“Root?  I’m here.” 

Shaw paused about halfway through the entryway, waiting impatiently for some kind of reply.  She knew she wasn't alone.  She could hear the quiet shuffling and tell-tale rustling of a house alive.  Besides that, she could  _feel_ Root and Daniella nearby, their presence making the house warmer somehow.  But neither of them called back—not to question her and not to welcome her. 

Shaw’s neutral expression darkened slightly when she turned her head and noticed the temperature reading on the thermostat—72℉. 

_So we’re back to playing that game again?  Fine._

Shaw’s eyebrows furrowed dangerously as she punched in a milder setting. 

It hadn’t escaped her notice that Bear hadn’t come to greet her—which meant Root probably hadn’t let him in.  Out of spite.  _Dammit Root._  

Shaw hefted her bag and proceeded down the hall to deposit her backpack in the Master bedroom, accepting that Root wasn’t just worried—she was cross.  Which was a _headache_ Shaw had hoped to avoid.

Cross Root was almost as annoying as smug Root.

Shaw padded a quick circuit through the house, nonchalantly checking the various rooms for her pretend wife.  She wasn’t at all surprised to find Daniella sitting at the breakfast nook, working on a new panel of colored pages. 

Shaw stuck her hands in her pockets and waited until Daniella paused to set down her green crayon before clearing her throat. 

“Do you know where your mother is?” 

Daniella whipped her head around toward Shaw, her brown eyes growing wide.  She didn’t shout.  She didn’t say anything.  She simply nodded, biting her lower lip. 

Shaw nodded grimly. 

“Can you point me in the right direction?” 

Daniella nodded again and pointed up, happy to be helpful. 

Shaw sighed and pushed away from the door frame. 

“Thanks, kid.”    

Shaw took the stairs quickly, taking extra care to slap her palm against the banister once she reached the top so Root would have fair warning that she was approaching.  She didn't really care if the Machine had already warned Root or not, Shaw wasn't about to give Root even the slightest opportunity to pretend she hadn’t heard her come in.  It wasn’t Root’s style to avoid confrontation, and Shaw wanted to make her intentions perfectly clear, seeing as they’d had so many missed connections already today. 

She found Root in the small bedroom upstairs.  Her guns were on the nightstand next to her lava lamp.  And Root was standing with her back to the doorway, slipping on her earrings in front of the vanity. 

She was wearing a summer dress.  It was light and dotted with purple and yellow flowers.  But Shaw didn’t allow herself to note the way it hugged her figure.  She barely took any notice of what Root was wearing.  She was more interested in making eye-contact through the mirror. 

“Root, I know we’re cutting it a little close, but please don’t be mad—" 

“Why would I be mad?”  Root interrupted in a voice that was dangerously blasé. 

She finally met Shaw’s eyes in the mirror and Shaw immediately stiffened.  Root had never been very good at hiding her emotions.  It was probably why she had chosen to work behind a screen for so long.  It was less harrowing.  Easier to hide.  Her eyes were full of storms.   

“I left a note.”  Shaw ground out.

“Did you?”  Root demanded, finally turning to face Shaw directly.

“Yes, I did.”  Shaw said carefully, “It explained that I’d gone into the city.  I didn’t intend to be gone so long, but Fusco—”

“And you left a _note_ instead of _telling me directly_ because—?”  Root crossed her arms over her chest, daring Shaw to answer. 

Shaw clamped her mouth shut, her fingers twitching until she clenched fists.  She didn’t have an answer.  She couldn’t explain why there had been— _flutterings_ in her stomach the night before.  Why she had needed the space--the _distance_ to deal with them.  She only knew they’d made her impulsive.  Spurred her on to be reckless.  And selfish.  She had tried to distract herself with thoughts of vengeance—with tracking down Daniella’s father, to make sure he was _absolutely_ dead.  Not that Shaw doubted Root—she just knew from experience that sometimes it was the second death that stuck. 

Shaw didn’t say any of this out loud.  She kept her expression stony. 

Root searched Shaw’s face, but looked away after a moment with a sigh. 

“I see.” 

Root turned away from Shaw and went back to sit in front of the vanity.  She spoke briskly to Shaw’s reflection,

“We don’t have a lot of time.  Kat’s expecting us at 4.” 

Shaw didn’t move.  The words sounded like a dismissal, but Shaw hesitated.  She wanted to ask if Root forgave her, but it was such a peculiar impulse that Shaw blanched and her stomach turned.  She turned her head away and glared at the strange glow on the wall, courtesy of Root’s jewel-tone lava lamp. 

“It’s pretty bright out—you and Daniella should probably consider sunblock.” 

Root’s fingers stilled over the necklace she was fiddling with and she raised an eyebrow at Shaw’s reflection. 

Shaw cursed herself and left the room before Root could ask her where her concern came from. 

She didn’t have an answer. 


	29. Chapter 29

Root and Shaw walked stiffly side by side up the manicured drive of 308 Walnut Lane.  Root carried Daniella, and Shaw carried the bottle of red wine that had been conveniently delivered to their doorstep mere moments before they’d disembarked.  No one else was out on the street.  They were the last arrivals. 

The silence was awkward, but Shaw wasn’t about to break it. 

She tried to focus on their surroundings, remain alert, instead of dwelling on the stubborn sense of foreboding that had taken residence in her chest.  She wondered which of their neighbors had taken the time to stick each of the little pinwheels into the dirt along the sidewalk—there had to be at least three hundred of them.  They were all shaped like butterflies the color of the flowers on Root’s dress—which confirmed Shaw’s suspicions that Root had been given insider information. 

She shot the nearest security camera a glare.  

Shaw wondered briefly how long the hacker was going to stay mad at her, but then her attention was drawn to laughter coming from the backyard of the house that was identical to their own, and her lips twitched into a frown.  She couldn’t help but think that this would be a lot easier if she and Root were on the same page—but she had run out of time. 

Shaw let Root take the lead and followed her around the house to a wooden gate—one covered in festive streamers. 

Shaw groaned and started to turn around.  _Streamers…really?_

“No you don’t, Sameen.  You promised to behave yourself.”  Root hissed as she used her free hand to snag Shaw’s elbow. 

Shaw exchanged a look with Daniella.

“Listen, I really don’t think we should leave Bear alone for so long.  Maybe I should go check on him, and you and Daniella can go in without…” 

“Be quiet, Sameen.”  Root snapped as she shifted Daniella to the opposite hip and unlatched the gate without bothering to ask Shaw if she was ready. 

Shaw took a sharp breath through her nose and wished for the thousandth time that Root hadn’t made her leave her guns behind—

Every head turned their way.  There were at least sixty people gathered in Kat's back garden, and every single one of them turned to stare.

The lights were glaring and the air warm and full of smoke that promised oversalted meat.  Shaw immediately hated it.

Three seconds passed of breathless silence before an all too familiar shriek ripped through the air, drowning out even the pop music that was playing near the grill station.  Of course Kat pounced on them before anyone else—she was the hostess after all.    

Shaw gritted her teeth when the woman appeared and threw her arms around Root as if they had been parted for far too long. 

“Oh, Samantha!  You’re finally here!  We’ve been waiting!”  The woman was shouting as if she represented an entire committee rather than just herself.  She turned abruptly to shout to the horde of neighbors in her yard as if they could not see for themselves, “The Arundels are here!”

The welcoming hails were deafening.  Shaw gave a curt nod.  Daniella had been displaced to the ground so Kat could hold both of Root’s forearms, and the child looked miserable as she clung to Root’s skirt. 

“Oh Kat, this is so wonderful.  You really didn’t have to do all this.”  Root was saying. 

Shaw agreed with the latter sentiment, but somehow it sounded… _nicer_ when Root said it. 

“Of course we did!  We have to welcome you to the family properly!”  Kat shrieked again.

Shaw’s shoulders tensed and she eyed the closest cooler of beer.  She was going to need to numb her senses if she was going to have prolonged exposure to Kat the banshee.

“Kat, you remember my wife, Sameen.  And Daniella?”  Shaw felt Root brush a hand over her shoulder, and she forced a smile as she stepped forward to thrust the wine into Kat’s hands—effectively forcing her to relinquish her hold on Root.  A fact that Shaw relished.    

“Thank you for the party.”  Shaw said stiffly.  Behind her, Shaw heard Root sigh. 

“Oh, well—you are most welcome.”  Kat stammered with false brightness, not really returning Shaw’s smile.  For a moment, the two women glared at each other--Shaw decided Daniella had been right.  The woman did have scary eyes. 

Kat lifted her nose as she tucked the wine under one arm and then turned her attention to Daniella, her face relaxing into a more natural smile. 

“Oh, Daniella, that is just the cutest little outfit!  God, Sam, I didn’t realize how much she looks like you…That must make it easier, doesn’t it?”  Kat gabbed. 

“We are very fortunate.”  Root forced. 

Shaw could hear a tense note enter Root’s voice.  She resisted the urge to turn to take note of Root’s expression.  She kept her eyes on Daniella and Kat’s hold on the kid’s arm.  If she squeezed any harder—Shaw wasn’t above tackling her.   

“And you, Sameen?  How is motherhood treating you?”  Kat asked suddenly, breaking Shaw’s concentration. 

Shaw frowned and glanced up.  Kat was smirking at her, as if she already knew the answer and was expecting Shaw to deny it. 

Shaw forced her lips to slant upward, determined not to let this woman rile her, “The same really.  Samantha does most everything.  I don’t know how she does it.” 

Shaw smirked when she noticed how Root’s face paled and her great brown eyes narrowed. 

The woman, Kat, seemed for once unable to find her usual pitch of laughter.

“Oh, Sam, come on back and we can talk some more in the kitchen.”  Kat changed tact and practically latched herself to Root’s arm, tugging her toward the house.

Shaw’s arm shot out to catch Root’s wrist tightly. 

“Don’t you dare leave me with all of these people.”  Shaw hissed in Root’s good ear. 

The crowd had stayed back while Kat waylaid the new arrivals at the gate, almost as if it were customary, but Shaw could feel their stares, their _questions,_ pressing like heat from a growing fire.  They remained at the fringes of her vision, edging closer. 

“Sorry, sweetie, I’ll only be a minute.  Why don’t you go out there and make some new friends?  I’m sure it’ll be fun.”  Root said, patting Shaw’s cheek affectionately.

“Root.”  Shaw warned under her breath.  Root gave her one of her signature ‘sorry-not sorry’ pouts and then turned to hook her arm through Kat’s, taking the comforting smell of her citrus and mint perfume with her.

Daniella started forward as if to follow Root, but Shaw hooked a finger under the strap of her overalls and kept her back.  Daniella's feet tangled in the grass and she turned her big, frightened eyes on Shaw, looking as if she might cry.  Shaw just shook her head.  _My number, my responsibility._  

Daniella didn’t seem to appreciate that Shaw was keeping her back so she could protect her and wrenched herself free from Shaw’s relaxed grip, her face darkening just as suddenly as it had that day in the grocery store parking lot.  Shaw kept an eye on her as Daniella wobbled forward, her braided pigtails trembling as she struggled to regain her balance and put distance between herself and Sameen who was once again being a meanie.    

“Oh, you must be Samantha’s wife, Sameen!”  A high voice ripped right through Shaw’s right eardrum and drew her attention away from her unhappy number.  It was not nearly as jolting as Kat’s voice, but it was still a shock and Shaw tried to mask a grimace as she turned toward the onslaught of impatient women coming to appraise and interrogate her. 

“Yep, that’s me.”  Shaw admitted, holding out her hand. 

She was surprised when the woman speaking to her completely ignored her hand and threw her arms around Shaw’s neck, nearly spilling the martini in her hand.  Shaw barely had time to swivel her hips to direct the trajectory of the spilling alcohol away from Daniella’s hair. 

“We’ve all been dying to meet you—Kat’s told us so little.”  The woman said, pulling back.

Shaw coughed and straightened her dress once the overly aggressive hugger released her.  A horde of women had surrounded her, and she could see several curious, young faces leering at her as well.

“Oh, uh—well, I’m glad for the opportunity to meet—"  Shaw was cut off by another high-pitched squeal as the woman with the martini noticed Daniella still glaring at Shaw in indignation from a short distance.

“And this must be the little one!  Oh, she is just precious!”  The woman grabbed Daniella’s arm and practically dragged her back over to the corner from which she’d just escaped. 

“You are just the sweetest thing I have ever seen!”  The woman exclaimed as she examined Daniella like a work horse. 

Shaw started to say something, but was surprised when she noticed at least six other women had gathered the courage to step forward to kneel and ogle at the child. 

“Oh, look at your little pigtails, aren’t they cute!”

“You have the prettiest brown eyes!”

“Kat tells us you’re from France, can you speak French darlin’?”

“Yes, say something in French for us!” 

Shaw could see Daniella’s lower lip start to tremble and she knew even before Daniella’s large brown eyes found her that things were _not_ going to end well.  Daniella’s eyes welled with tears and the first fell as she opened her mouth,

“Sah-meen!”  Daniella wailed. 

Shaw wasn’t sure how, but she found herself suddenly next to the child, shoving surprised women out of the way.  Shaw picked up the child and held her tightly, ignoring the discomfort of hot tears landing on her bare shoulder and sliding down her clavicle.  Shaw rubbed Daniella’s back and eyed the flustered women, having to take a deep breath to calm herself before she could think of a way to fix this that wouldn’t make Root furious with her. 

Shaw’s first impulse was just to shoot them all…in the knee of course…and get Daniella far away from the wolves.

“I’m sorry, she’s just a bit overwhelmed, meeting new people all at once.”  Shaw hoped she sounded convincing.  She was rewarded by pitying ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ as the women stood and dusted themselves off, some giving her calculating looks while a few actually seemed to gather their senses and came up to introduce themselves. 

“Hi there, I’m Diane Peterson, my husband Bill works as a day trader and our two boys were really excited when they saw your dog…”

“Sameen?  Hello, I’m Leslie.  Leslie Beirigg.  Kat tells us you’re a doctor, do you work in the city?”

“Welcome to the neighborhood.  I’m Winnie Smith.  My husband’s a pediatrician, what do you practice Sameen?” 

Shaw tried to relax as she answered questions and tried to pretend to listen as her neighbors showered her with information she had not asked for.  She was pretty sure Daniella had fallen asleep on her shoulder, which wouldn’t have been a problem if the horde of curious women had actually let her move further into the yard to one of the numerous picnic tables or chairs…but they seemed to enjoy standing in an oblong circle to gossip.  The other children had grown bored and darted away to chase each other in the shade, but Shaw was left standing in the middle of the circle, in her heels, rocking a child that was growing heavier by the minute, still with an empty stomach. 

Shaw’s eyes wandered to the far side of the yard quite often, where the men had sequestered themselves to grill in peace.  Despite the overwhelming smell of burnt, nearly ruined meat, and sweat--it made Shaw’s mouth water.  At this point, she was willing to accept a charred burger so long as she could cross the yard to get it.    

“I have met your wife a few times in the supermarket…she is very sweet.” 

Shaw jerked her head when she heard Leslie’s voice again. 

“Yep, she’s my poison.”  Shaw said sweetly with a forced smile. 

The women around her laughed, but she caught one or two exchanging confused glances.  Obviously, none of these suburban housewives understood that sugar is a killer…like poison.  Shaw had just made a joke.

“And how did you two meet?”  Winnie, which was short for Winifred, asked.  

“Well…”  Shaw cleared her throat. 

“At school!”  Shaw was startled when Daniella shot up in her arms, her eyes bright and her face completely clear of tears.  She kicked her legs in excitement, nearly sending Shaw’s left kidney shooting clear across her body to join its twin on the other side. 

Shaw inhaled sharply while the women around her all started cooing again and crowding closer, cutting off her view of the beer cooler. 

“At school, was it?”

“How marvelous!” 

“Hold still, little one, you’ve got a bit of…”  Leslie moved forward to wipe a bit of dried snot from Daniella’s nose, not even making a face as she did so.  Shaw had seen it, but she wasn’t about to clean the kid up after she’d nearly had her internal organs rearranged. 

“So, your mommies met at school, did they?”  A woman named Sharon asked.  She had beautifully braided cornrows that were each tipped with silver beads that rattled like chittering laughter when she moved. 

Daniella nodded enthusiastically, her eyes on the silver beads. 

“Mhmm.  At the li-berry.” 

The women all squealed with delight at Daniella’s childish voice. 

Shaw scowled and turned her head to look at the child in her arms.

“Be quiet, you weren’t even there.”  Shaw told the kid. 

Daniella’s eyes flashed in a very Root-like way and Shaw cringed as that lower lip shot out in a pout that she knew very well.

“But it’s my most favoritest story!”  The child said, crossing her little arms over her chest in a huff. 

Shaw paled a little, sure that at any moment the child was going to give them away—to Daniella these stories were all _lies_ after all. 

“Don’t listen to your mommy, little one.  Go ahead and tell us the story, we’re all _dying_ to hear it.”  Leslie prompted with many encouraging nods and affirmations from the other ladies. 

“Sah-meen was in the li-berry to make lots of money and mommy was in the li-berry to read lots of books.”  Daniella told her captivated audience. 

Shaw rolled her eyes.

“I worked there, and the pay wasn’t very good.”  Shaw muttered to anyone who bothered to know.

“And they read lots of books together and drank coffee!”  Daniella explained with great enthusiasm as if that were the most exciting thing in the world. 

The women reacted as if it were. 

Shaw groaned and lifted her eyes to the sky, squinting at the sun. 

“Does your mommy read to you, little one?”  Diane asked. 

“Mhmm.  But she can’t read to me from the book Sah-meen hides in a drawer.”  Daniella said seriously. 

Some of the women gasped in mock surprise. 

Shaw eyed the woman named Harriet who had nearly spilled her drink on Daniella earlier.  She had moved on to vodka…and it wasn’t even 4:30 yet. 

“Why not?”

“How sad.” 

“Maybe it’s a special book just for your mommies…”

“I’m sure there are plenty of other books for your mommy to read to you.” 

“Well, why not, baby girl?”  Sharon asked, dropping one hand to her hip.  

“It has holes in it.”  Daniella said with a shrug. 

“Holes?”

“What for?”

“Why are there holes in the book?” 

Daniella reached down and pulled up Shaw’s left hand where her fake wedding band and simple engagement ring sparkled. 

The Machine had sent their rings on that first day, but Shaw was always forgetting hers.  She jammed them on when she left the house and then slipped them off as soon as she got out of Flower Hill.  If it hadn't been for Root slipping them into her hand as they'd left the house less than forty minutes ago, Shaw would have forgotten to wear them for the meet-and-greet.     

“So Sah-meen could put mommy’s pretty ring in there.”  Daniella explained. 

The women seemed to sigh collectively. 

Shaw stared at the child, shocked that she had discovered the book Shaw had brought home that very evening.  She’d gotten it from Gen—she’d refused to go to library to beg Finch for a copy, not when she knew he and John would never let her live it down. 

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t just offered it to Root as soon as she’d crossed the threshold, it probably would have served as a better apology than the one she’d actually offered.  But she hadn’t.  She’d hidden it away like some sort of secret and at some point while she and Root had been arguing and ignoring each other as they got ready for the party neither of them was even looking forward to, Daniella had found it. 

Maybe she should have locked it away with her guns. 

“That’s how you proposed, Sameen?”  Winnie asked with a dreamy smile. 

Shaw coughed and adjusted Daniella a little to lessen the strain on her forearm.

“Yeah, ah…Sammie’s favorite book is _Pride and Prejudice_ , so I just…bought her a new copy…one that turned out to have a much more romantic ending.” 

All the women sighed again with even more fervor. 

Shaw felt like gagging.  Daniella’s eyes were trained on Shaw’s face, which she found a little unnerving. 

“You called mommy a bug.”  Daniella said. 

Shaw forced a chuckle.

“That’s because she wouldn’t quit bugging me…she knew what she wanted before I did; she wanted to settle down, but I wanted to be practical and wait until I’d finished my residency and I still had student loans…” 

“Med School’s expensive.  If you’re not careful, it can haunt you.”  Winnie agreed. 

Shaw sighed and glanced at Daniella who was grinning at her, her little nose crinkled up in a way that was uncannily similar to Root’s way of beaming whenever she was pleased with herself.

“But ah…the idea grew on me.  I certainly didn’t want to lose her, so…I thought, ‘why not give it a chance’ and ah…we’ve been married now for six years, and she seems to still be happy…”  Shaw explained a little more roughly than she’d intended.

“And you love her.”  Daniella added that crucial bit of information. 

Shaw forced her face to remain as openly amused and smiling as it had been for this entire exchange even if all she wanted to do was scowl and go back across the street to sit in darkness and watch the grown men knocking the hell out of each other on television with her dog.

“Yup.  Don’t tell her often enough, but I sure do.”  Shaw was sure her tone would make it blatantly obvious that she was lying and she cringed, but the women all nodded sympathetically.

“That’s alright, Sameen, I’m sure she knows.”  Diane said as she patted Shaw’s arm as if they were bookclub friends.

“It’s in the things we do, sometimes, that say it loudest.  Like when Dickie took the kids off my hands for the weekend just so I could go to the spa for an evening…”

“Exactly, or when Fred surprised me with those tickets to the Caymans…”

Shaw rolled her eyes as the women tried to one-up each other with stories of their men proving their love with expensive presents.  Shaw wasn’t an expert on love by any means, but there were people she cared about in this world…especially Bear.  And she showed it very clearly by:

1) shooting anyone who hurt them,

2) saving their asses when they did stupid things

& 3) sharing her food…which was something she never did outside a very small, very _particular_ circle of trust.  Mostly just with Bear. 

Everything else was just detail. 

Love didn’t have to be complicated.

Or at least, Shaw didn’t think it had to be.  But she’d never even read _Pride & Prejudice_.  What did she know?


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for the very long hiatus. Earlier this month I lost a family member, and just didn't have the motivation to write. But I want to assure you I haven't forgotten this story. These characters are important to me and I promise their story won't go unfinished.   
> There will be plenty of chapters to come.   
> Thank you for taking the time to read my work.   
> I hope you enjoy it!

Root wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing in the kitchen.  Luckily, Kat seemed content to do all the chatting.  Root had no way of knowing what was happening to her daughter out in the yard, but she took comfort in the knowledge that Shaw wouldn’t let anything happen to her—she took the fact that there hadn’t been any shots fired recently as a good sign…or perhaps Shaw had hidden her silencer in her clutch or something. 

Root wouldn’t put it past her. 

Especially given the _mood_ her pretend wife seemed to be in today.  Root knew arguing with Shaw before they left the house certainly hadn't helped, but she refused to feel guilty.  She needed to remember her frustration--she needed to pretend she hadn't forgiven Shaw the moment she'd heard her come through the front door   

“Sameen looks absolutely gorgeous in that dress.”  Kat gabbed as she pulled some lemonade from the refrigerator.   

“She always looks like that.” 

Root said as accepted the glass of lemonade with a forced smile.  Root took a tentative sip of the beverage and turned her eyes away to the rest of the kitchen.  She really didn’t want to spend all evening gossiping about her ‘wife’…especially when said ‘wife’ was a ticking time bomb about to go off, probably right next to Daniella.

“Well of course _to you_ , she does.  But to those of us who only see her coming and going in those ghastly black outfits…it is an improvement, believe me.”  Kat said with a laugh. 

Root bit her tongue and said nothing. 

She wanted to point out that Shaw dressed in what she felt comfortable in and Root always appreciated watching Shaw fight when she was wearing one of her black tank tops…it gave her the opportunity to admire her muscled arms.   

"But I take it there’s been no improvement?  No spark between Sameen and Daniella?”  Kat asked suddenly. 

Root’s eyes snapped up to lock with Kat’s. 

There was an animal quality to them now. 

Root knew that look.  The woman was on the hunt for information, and she wouldn’t let Root go until she had some.  Root took a sip of lemonade to give herself time to steel herself away, prepare for all attacks.  

“Not really…Sameen is more focused on her work right now.  She doesn’t have a lot of free time to spend with us, and well…She’s never really been very in touch with her feelings, so she still isn’t quite sure what to make of Daniella.”  Root said carefully. 

She gave a winning smile and a shrug to sweeten the deal, which Kat immediately rewarded with a sympathetic sigh and a hand on Root’s shoulder. 

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, Sam.  She’ll come around eventually.  She has to.”  Kat said soothingly.  She even brushed a curl back behind Root’s ear. 

Sirens went off in Root’s mind at the gentle touch. 

Root kept her face still as she nodded at Kat’s words, but she also glanced at the woman beside her with new interest when Kat turned her head away again to chase a new thought.

“Besides, she is doing all of this for you, don’t forget that.  Daniella, moving out here, even the party tonight…it’s all for you.  She obviously wants to keep you happy, especially if she can’t support you emotionally.”  Kat said as she sipped daintily from her glass. 

Root’s eyebrows furrowed and she swirled the liquid in her glass, thinking.

“You’re saying she’s compromising?”  Root asked. 

Kat laughed and shook her head slightly, making her platinum blonde hair sway. 

“Really, Sam, you are too sweet!”  Kat said as she tried to recover her breath.  Root kept a smile plastered on her face, but internally recoiled a little.  “ _Compensating_ , Sam.  She’s compensating for what she can’t possibly give you.”           

“But she already gives me so much…”  Root started. 

Kat stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. 

“She _tries_ , Sam.  From the moment I met you, I could see that you were a bit of sunshine, a kindred spirit really.  We are the kind of women who delight in _life_ , Sam, in all it can give us.  I like being pampered, adored, the little luxuries…and my husband, bless him, does his best to take care of me, but to be honest, he isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed and there are some things I just have to do myself.  It seems to me that you’re in the same boat…your wife can’t connect to you on the emotional level you need.” 

Root was only half-listening.

“We’re fine.”  Root said stiffly when she recognized an opening. 

Kat gave her a sympathetic look. 

“Don’t kid yourself, Sam.  ‘Fine’ is no way to live.”  Kat said. 

Root shuddered. 

“Hey, babe?”  Both Root and Kat looked up and Root was relieved to see Dave’s face in the doorway. 

He looked apologetic, and unwilling to intrude. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I think we’re almost ready.”  He said. 

Kat smiled and set down her glass.

“Of course, we’ll be right there.” 

Dave nodded and started to go, but then paused and turned back as if he’d remembered something,

“Say, Sam—does your little girl swim?” 

Root was grateful she’d already finished her lemonade, otherwise she might have choked. 

“Swim?”  Root repeated, unable to keep alarm from her voice. 

“Oh yeah, some of the kids were gonna go over to Bill and Diane’s a little later.”  Dave explained with a shrug. 

“They live right next door.”  Kat supplied, smiling over her shoulder as she rinsed the lemonade glasses in the sink. 

“Right.”  Dave nodded, “Anyway, our daughter Cheryl and some of the other kids were going to head over there after a bit.  Just to get out of the sun, you know.” 

“Oh, well…”  Root paused, waiting for the Machine to tell her whether or not this was a situation to avoid. 

Root didn’t know if Daniella could swim. 

There were a lot of things Root didn’t know about her little girl, and she hated that the reminders always came in moments of crisis.  She knew Daniella’s medical history by heart, knew her favorite lullaby, her favorite color—but that didn’t excuse the fact that she didn’t know if Daniella could swim.  There were a million little details about Daniella’s life that were a mystery to Root, and she was keenly aware of that deficiency every day. 

The Machine was no help.  She chose in this moment to recite a memorandum from the American Association of Pediatrics from a few years ago amending the age for children to begin swimming lessons from 4 to 1, which Root found interesting, but not particularly helpful.

“That’s very kind of you, Dave, to want to include Daniella, but I’m just not sure if—”

“If she doesn’t have a suit, that’s fine.”  Kat interrupted Root’s train of thought with on of her grating laughs, “I’m sure we have one of Cheryl’s old ones around her somewhere.  And don’t worry about safety, the kids know they’re not allowed to swim unless they’ve got at least two chaperones with them—”

Root didn’t care about appropriate swimwear.  She was more concerned with the idea of surrendering her daughter to the neighborhood children.  The suburban women were one thing—they regarded Daniella’s otherness as adorable and therefore were more superficially curious than critical. 

But Root doubted their children would be so easily distracted. 

Her own experiences had taught her that children could be cruel.  Root was not about to hand her daughter over to some of the most vicious creatures on the planet.  With or without chaperones.

“That’s very sweet of you.”  Root forced, “But I don’t think Daniella’s ready for a playdate.  We’re still trying to get acquainted with everyone.  Maybe some other time.” 

Dave nodded.  “Sure thing.  I just wanted to offer.”

“Yes, well, a mother knows best.”  Kat stated with a sigh before she seemed to rouse herself and her smile returned with a vengeance as she latched on once more to Root’s arm, “Now then, I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough, don’t you?  It’s time to get this party started.”

Root nodded and plastered on a smile.  She tried to appear genuine—inwardly she was cringing.  She got the impression—from the way Kat’s fingers dug into her flesh—that there would be no escaping Kat this evening.  Which meant she’d averted one crisis only to step headlong into another. 

“Dave, sweetheart—will you grab the relish tray?  Oh, and the wine.  And don’t forget that grilled cheese you promised Sam’s little girl—and we need to check the ice cream soon.”  Kat remembered as she led Root back through the house.   

“I checked the ice cream.”  Dave offered.  He trailed behind, struggling to carry all that his wife demanded. 

Kat didn’t seem to hear him. 

“We need to make sure we have plenty of ice left for the red ice chest—”

“I thought you said you wanted the ice cream in the blue ice chest.”  Dave interrupted as he sidestepped an end table supporting a vase full of chrysanthemums.  Root knew they were fake because her allergies weren’t kicking in—besides the fact that the leaves were a little dusty.  She knew there was an allegory to be drawn here, something about the quality of a marriage based on the authenticity of the flowers they keep, but she was more preoccupied with trying to see through the living room window—to find Shaw in the mob outside.  But the trouble was—Shaw didn’t exactly have height on her side.   

Kat froze and turned back to glare at her husband. 

“No, _dear_ , I specifically said the _blue ice chest_ was for the _watermelon_.  The _red ice chest_ is for the _ice cream_.”

“But sweetheart, does the watermelon have to be chilled?  We’ve already got the extra meat on ice and all those popsicles for the kids; it’s just one more thing to worry about—”  Dave fell silent when he saw the look Kat was giving him. 

He bowed his head in a way that looked almost habit. 

“Yes, dear.” 

“Just _fix it_ , Dave.”  Kat hissed as she turned sharply and started dragging Root toward the exit.  She paused at the backdoor to fix her hair and catch Root’s eye to give her an exasperated smile, “Like I said—sometimes it feels like I have to do _everything_ myself.”  

Root nodded, but didn’t say anything.  Instead she bit her lip. 

She supposed she could sympathize.  She knew the feeling Kat spoke of.  There were times she felt alone, as if she were the _only one_ fighting, as if she was the only one that _could_.  But that feeling—she hadn’t felt it in awhile. 

She was starting to realize that between the Machine and Shaw—she had all the help she needed.

For now at least.


	31. Chapter 31

It took a _lot_ of evasive maneuvering, but eventually, Shaw got herself out of the corner and away from the gate.  Her goal still lay almost _impossibly_ out of reach, but she was willing to brave the seventy yards or so to make it to the shade, even if it meant wading through even more painful introductions and interrogations. 

She didn’t quite manage to shake the ever-growing horde of gossiping housewives, but she took comfort in the fact that she was at least _moving_.  Even if it felt almost as if she were stuck in some goddam obstacle course, running into new pockets of neighbors waiting to bombard her with the same droll questions about her fake life. 

“So where is it you practice again, Sam?  Is it okay if I call you, Sam?”

“And just how long have you and Sam been married?  Kat said it hasn’t been long…”

“Did you find adoption hard?  You know—having to fight against the _stigma_?  Is that why your little girl isn’t from here?  Was it _easier_ in France?”

“Was it love at first sight?”

“Ugh!  Why are all the good ones taken, am I right?”

“How much do you make?”

“Does your wife cook?”

“Now what’s this I hear about _Pride and Prejudice_?  Are you a Firth or Macfadyen buff?”

“Does your daughter have trouble keeping your names straight?  I mean, Samantha and Sameen, that must cause at least some confusion right?”

“Where did you live before?”

“How long was your honeymoon?  Would you go back?”

“Now, you might find this an impertinent question but—Sam just seems so much—taller than you, is that ever—an issue?”

“Did the dog come first or the baby?”

“Say, does your daughter swim?” 

Every inch was precious, a victory, not only because Daniella had a chokehold on Shaw’s windpipe and only seemed to grow heavier as the sun beat mercilessly down on them, but also because Shaw had been keeping an eye on her prize—on the beer coolers set up near the grill station, and it had not escaped her notice that the men in their stained grillmaster aprons and flashy watches had more than once helped themselves to refreshments—and she was _determined_ to get over there before there was a shortage. 

Still, as she hiked Daniella up a little more securely on her hip and prepared to duck and weave through Harriet and the woman from 302 who kept pressing her about the height issue—which was _not_ an issue—the more pressing matter on Shaw’s mind was where _the hell_ Root had gotten off to.  

The hacker did not get to drag her to this _nekbat_ under the pretense of keeping up a happy family façade and then disappear for wine and decompression off on her own! 

That was _unacceptable_. 

Needless to say, by the time Shaw finally did manage to get some momentum and pull ahead of the tireless women to sidle up next to the grilling station, she was in desperate need of a drink.  A cold one. 

The determined look in her eyes must have said more than enough, because she didn’t even have to ask. 

She’d barely taken more than two steps into the shade before one of the men caught her eye and abandoned the hot dogs on his grill to grab a beer.  The look on his rugged face was sympathetic as he handed it over to Shaw. 

“You look like you could use one of these.” 

Shaw just grunted as she accepted the offering.  Daniella was eyeing the amber liquid suspiciously, but after the stunt she’d pulled earlier, Shaw was willing to ignore the very Root-like look of disapproval on the child’s face in the interest of quenching her _own_ thirst and reviving her _own_ stamina so that she would then be better equipped to tend to the needs of her number.  This was all just part of protecting the girl, after all.

“Oh, wait, let me—”  The man in the apron trailed off in surprise as he watched Shaw deftly twist the top off the Blue Moon bottle without compromising her hold on the four year old at her hip. 

“Nice.”  One of the other men praised. 

“Gee—have a seat.  We don’t bite.”  Another said quickly as he started up from his lawn chair.  His tone was deep and resonant—if Shaw racked her brain she could place him at the end of the street at 317 Walnut Lane.  She was pretty sure his wife was Sharon.

“So you’re, ahh—Doctor Ardunel, right?  Sorry am I saying it right?”  The man who had handed Shaw the beer asked over his shoulder as he lifted the hood of his grill to check his hot dogs—Shaw inwardly grimaced at the peek she got of the rather shrunken and _burnt_ beef patties on the grill manned by an older gentleman.  These jokers had clearly mishandled the meat—they’d probably used salt, which would leave the burgers dry and bland.  

All this way—all that _effort_ for burned burgers?

She took a swig from the bottle to soothe her aching throat and sour thoughts.

“Arundel, actually.”  Shaw said after she’d swallowed. 

“Arundel.”  Daniella parroted in her sing-song voice, perking up slightly.  She’d seemed to be wilting a little rather than soaking up the sun, getting tired, drowsy—it was one of the reasons Shaw had worked so hard to get in the shade.  Well, _that_ and the promise of beer.  But Daniella was the priority. 

“Right, yeah—sorry.”  The man at the hot dog station apologized.  He reached up to swipe a forearm across his forehead, almost upsetting his hat. 

“And you must be—Daniella.  Is that right?”  The man Shaw was positive was Sharon’s husband asked Daniella.  He was wearing khakis and a polo—which Shaw normally would have scoffed at, but in this heat, it garnered a small degree of respect. 

Shaw was grateful when the wind changed and she could feel the breeze at her neck. 

“Yes.  And this is my other mommy!”  Daniella piped up, grinning broadly as she patted Shaw wherever her small hands happened to be—which was on either side of Shaw’s head.

The men nodded and a few cracked smiles.

“Cool.”  One of the men leaning against the shade tree offered. 

Shaw inwardly groaned and did her best not to lose her grip on the neck of her beer bottle—she was going to need every last drop.

“So—do you like it here so far?”  Sharon’s husband asked Shaw politely. 

“Yup.”  Shaw said evenly. 

The men nodded, but then it was quiet.  There was no follow up question.  The proffered lawn chair seemed momentarily forgotten as the they all stood in accepted silence. 

For a moment, only the sizzling of fat on the grill and the subdued music permeated the air.

Daniella had settled her head back on Shaw’s shoulder and had turned her big brown eyes up to the few wisps of clouds, clearly content.  

Shaw noticed rather suddenly that most of the boisterous neighborhood children were gone, leaving a very clear divide between the women who had gathered around the picnic tables to fuss over the arrangement of the condiments and snack items and the men lording over the sizzling meat. 

It was a different dynamic on this side of the yard, to say the least.  Calmer.  Much less… _overwhelming_.  

The tension between Shaw’s shoulder blades finally relaxed.  She took another drink of beer. 

“So, are you happy with the Prestige?”  Shaw asked nonchalantly, indicating the rather large, stainless steel grill that she doubted was in very appreciative hands.  She knew grills like she knew guns—bigger wasn’t always better, but…it did help.  _If_ you knew what you were doing.    

The man in the apron sucked in his left cheek as he adjusted the heat,

“I don’t know—this is Bill’s, and I kinda miss my Saber.” 

“Hey, your Saber doesn’t have infrared ceramic burners, does it _Gary_?”  The gentleman manning the hard liquor station shot over the counter as he righted a few pinwheels that had fallen over—Shaw eyed the vase.  She didn’t understand the pinwheels—was there a theme?  Had Root forgotten to tell her there was a theme?

“No—but it’s much more user friendly.”  The one presumably called Gary muttered as he fiddled again with the heat—turning it in what Shaw knew was the wrong direction.  Those hamburgers would soon be dust if he wasn’t careful. 

“What was that?”  Bill goaded, smirking cheekily while his friends laughed. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and lifted her bottle to take another swig, but she froze with the rim to her lips.  She frowned as she watched Root emerge from 308 with that Kat woman—she should have noticed that her entourage of curious new friends had kept their distance once she’d crossed the divide.  Now they were all flocking toward the back door of the hostess’s house. 

Shaw supposed now it was Root’s turn for the ambush.

That thought at least gave her a little comfort—even though the alcohol was not drowning the unpleasant churning in the pit of her stomach like she’d hoped it would. 

“Mommy!”  Daniella caught sight of Root a few seconds after Shaw and lifted her head so suddenly she almost flew right out of Shaw’s arms as she started waving enthusiastically.  Shaw cursed and adjusted her arms to tighten her hold so she wouldn’t drop her.  “Sah-meen, look!  There’s Mommy!”

Root smiled and waved back a little more discreetly while the company yard-wide laughed. 

Shaw just scowled. 

Root was still standing next to Kat.  And Kat had come to the edge of the deck railing with a self-satisfied strut to her step that set Shaw’s teeth on edge. 

“My good friends of Flower Hill—”  Kat called out sweetly, clearly meaning to draw the attention of anyone choosing to carry on much less important private conversations.  She gave a pointed glare to a teenager stationed near the stereo and paused until the Katy Perry song was cut off.

“Here we go.”  One of the men behind Shaw sighed. 

“I would like to thank you all for helping get this event up and running—and I’m getting a thumbs up from Bill which means we are finally ready to really get this party started!”  Kat let loose one of her signature shrieking laughs while her guests cheered and whistled. 

“And now, on behalf of Flower Hill—I would like to officially welcome you, Sam, and your beautiful family to our neighborhood.”  Kat reached out and drew Root closer to bask in the even louder cheers and whistles from the crowd as she handed her what appeared to be some kind of potted plant with a large yellow bow tied around the basket.

Root looked a little startled, but managed an easy smile, as she dipped her chin and accepted the cumbersome gift.  The little purple and yellow flowers on her summer dress seemed to flutter as she took a nervous breath, but when she caught Shaw’s eye, Shaw could see the amusement gleaming in her eye.

Shaw’s eyes narrowed.  She should have known Root would enjoy this sort of thing.  She played the flustered but charming leading lady all too well, but it was Kat’s hand at Root’s back that drew Shaw’s glare.     

She didn’t like it. 

“Thank you so much, Kat.”  Root offered, “I know I speak for Sameen and myself when I say we are just—very grateful to be here.” 

Shaw’s eyes lifted in surprise at the sincerity in Root’s tone.  The hacker’s eyes were open again—and Shaw didn’t see any anger in them.  No lingering suspicion or frustration. 

“That is just so sweet,”  Kat gushed, once again lifting a hand to Root’s arm and immediately dampening whatever semblance of lifted spirits Shaw had just experienced, “And I know we’re all anxious to get to know you, so—let’s eat!” 

There were more cheers and whoops as the residents of Flower Hill turned their attention from their hostess’s speech to each other and the food, but Shaw still had eyes on Root. 

The sun was still blazing and she was a little uncomfortable in her dress with beads of sweat sliding down her neck, but she supposed Root had a point.  Even if she was annoyed by the questions of the neighbors and the incompetence of the ones supposed to be grilling her food—she couldn’t deny that they were safe here.  These people, the easy flow of talk and laughter—it was so easy to fold Daniella up into the slow rhythm of it.  To let the adults ask their questions and play with her pigtails until they grew bored—bored enough to accept her as one of their own.  To go blind to her otherness.

Flower Hill was as important to the cover as the lies Root and Shaw had to tell. 

So just this once—Shaw decided she was okay with letting Root speak for her, seeing as her pretend wife always knew _exactly_ what to say.   

She wasn’t going to let it become a habit though. 

She still had a voice in this marriage dammit.  She didn’t want to end up like Dave—the shadow of a man who was up there on the deck with Kat and Root but hadn’t gotten to say anything.  He was hidden by the bushy potted plants neatly arranged along the deck, but Shaw could see a bit of his red shirtsleeve beyond Kat’s shoulder.   

Shaw snorted as she lifted her beer up to her lips for the last few swallows.  _Nope_ , definitely not going to end up like Dave, arms full and forgotten— _wait_.


	32. Chapter 32

To the casual observer, the party at 308 Walnut Lane appeared a roaring success.  The turnout was grand.  The weather still favorable.  The food plentiful.  And Kat Stern was triumphant as the preening master of ceremonies.  But for Root, the evening had acquired a distinctive grey tint. 

Kat wouldn’t let her go. 

First she’d cornered Root in the kitchen, and now, she monopolized her in the yard, digging her acrylic nails into Root’s arm to drag her from one picnic table to another, where her new neighbors waited with questions and burning looks of their own. 

Root wouldn’t have minded so much if Kat’s goal hadn’t been so obvious—she was doing her very best to keep Root away from Shaw and Daniella.  She didn’t know how, but every time she managed to take a breath and lift her head above the dragging conversations about the schools in the area or the _economy_ , the number of neighbors standing between herself and Shaw seemed to have doubled. 

They presented as an almost unbreachable wall. 

And Shaw was on the other side—wearing that _sleeveless_ black dress.  The one that made it almost impossible for Root to think about anything else. 

Seeing Shaw looking so— _radiant_ , would usually override Root’s senses, leaving her mouth dry and her fingers twitching with the desire to _touch_ Shaw, forgetting all the times she’d been burned before. 

But this afternoon, there seemed so much distance between them that the powerful effects Root would expect seemed muted. 

Root’s mouth wasn’t exactly dry, but she found herself wetting her lips often as she did her best to appear candid and eager to hear all of the housekeeping advice her neighbors could offer.  Her eye twitched as she tried to find the right pitch to fold her laugh into Kat’s.  She struggled to juggle all of the various plates of food the neighborwomen kept shoving into her hands, but she had no appetite whatsoever. 

In fact, if she was perfectly honest, she was feeling a little sick. 

Everyone she met seemed perfectly at ease, eager for sun and laughter.  Eager to meet the 'embodiment of sunshine' Kat had gushed about for so many days. 

And Root _had_ been looking forward to providing them with plenty of entertainment—juicy details about her fake married life.  But she found now that her heart wasn’t in it.  Not without Shaw by her side. 

There was no excitement to it if she couldn’t watch Sameen’s reactions, run her fingers along the edges of her patience to find the chipped places, push hard enough to widen the chinks, and make Sameen’s eyes change color. 

 _What was the point_ of putting together such an elaborate cover if they didn’t get to enjoy it?  _What was the point_ of explaining to Nancy Russel that Sameen happened to _like_ being the little spoon, if Shaw wasn’t there to jump in with a gruff but witty retort with that signature eyeroll that would safely solidify her status as the strong and silent type among the neighbors, but would confirm, once and for all, _all_ of Root’s suspicions?

 _What was the point_ if she couldn’t flirt with Shaw just a little bit? 

There wasn’t one.

Root sighed. 

She was starting to wish that she’d just given in to Shaw’s petulant protests before and just stayed home.  At least then they’d all be together.  Even if they'd probably be _alone_ together.  Stewing in silence. 

Root seriously doubted at this point that heading back to 314 would tempt Shaw into opening up any further.  And Root was stubborn enough that she probably wouldn't either.  Not unless Shaw blinked first. 

But maybe, in the privacy of the safe house they could have _at least_ addressed the fact that there was _something_ there--a tension, _dangerous_ and _heated_ , that was making this mission so much harder than it had to be.  

But _here_ \--here on the back lawn of 308, they were free to ignore it.  To pretend it wasn't hollowing them out from the inside, cutting and slicing behind the brave--or in Shaw's case, _neutral_ \--faces they put on for the sake of the neighbors.  The neighbors who had come to this party fully expecting to meet the Arundels, the _lovely_ little family that had moved in down the street.   

The _Happy_.  _Smiling_.  Family. 

Root cringed as Kat’s shrieking laugh brought her back to her miserable reality. 

All she wanted was to cross the yard to stand with Shaw.  To _show her_ that she was tired of fighting.  That she wanted to face the Flower Hill conundrum _together_.  

If she could just _get over there_ , maybe then Root could absorb some of Shaw’s silent strength—enough to get through the grey of the evening.   

Every time Daniella waved, Root’s heart sank a little further.  

But Root was under no delusions. 

She knew that splitting the way they had, it was the best option—the best _strategy_ they could have taken for the mission.  Because Daniella was still the priority— _the point_ to all of this.  Not the widening emotional disconnect between Root and Shaw.  That was the kind of distraction that would set Shaw’s teeth on edge.  And Root couldn’t afford to let Shaw get distracted—not when she was doing such a marvelous job already of protecting Daniella.

Root hated to admit that she’d been skeptical at first. 

Shaw had said it herself—she was a _protector_.  But Root had always known that Daniella needed something else too—something that Root herself had worried for a long time that she would be unable to give her daughter. 

But Shaw was always surprising her. 

Root saw how easily Daniella fit into Shaw’s arms now.  How her daughter no longer leaned away from Shaw but rather seemed to have melded permanently to her hip—How Shaw never faltered even as she was forced to use one hand instead of two to demonstrate her burger-flipping technique to a captive audience over at the grill station.

It was a natural, but _long awaited_ progression, and Root was so— _grateful_.  She wanted to tell Shaw how much— _prove it_ to her.

But she would need both hands for that. 

And hers were currently in Kat’s service, helping her to cut into several different desserts—presumably because the hostess did not trust her guests to ration the pies and cakes fairly if left to their own discretion.      

The hostess was chatting away, keeping up at least three very different conversations with Root and the other women who had been roped into preparing the dessert table—punctuating each and _every_ particularly witty point she took it upon herself to make with her trademark laugh.

 _This_ was the source of Root’s misery.     

Not just that Kat was doing her very best to keep Root away from Shaw—but that for the sake of the mission, Root had to _let her_. 

She had to make sure Shaw didn’t get distracted.  It was the _one thing_ she could do. 

And Kat’s rather loud and irritating personality might not only distract Shaw—it could very well move her to violence.  Which, the Machine kept reminding Root, would be <bad for MISSION>

Root had to bite her tongue to stop herself from telling the Machine that She was just being cynical—she knew the Machine knew best.  That She could see the larger equation.  

 _That_ was part of the problem. 

Root _knew_ the Machine was right.  She even _agreed_ with her. 

But it was becoming increasingly difficult to feel that her sacrifice meant anything when Shaw continued to glare at her like that—when she lifted her beautiful dark eyes from the glow of the infrared ceramic burners of the grill and her perfectly browning burgers _just_ to narrow them and look away before Root could even attempt to communicate across the void. 

It was as if Shaw had _no appreciation_ for just how much Root was suffering with Kat’s laugh ringing in her ears and fifty yards between them.  As if—as if Shaw _blamed Root_ for putting that distance between them in the first place.

Which puzzled Root beyond belief. 

Root would _never_ intentionally keep up such an abysmal distance between them.  Shaw should _know_ that.  Root would usually be tripping over herself trying to find a way to get over there the moment Shaw’s hands were occupied so she’d be free to twirl her ponytail through her fingers—it was a sneaky sort of technique that Root had come to rely on after having been swatted away so many times.

Which was why it was such a shame she had to stay away this time—when she knew that _this environment_ , coupled with _the particulars_ of their cover, would have let her get away with _so much more!_ Her heart fluttered at the thought.

But she couldn’t risk it.

The distance was _necessary_ for the mission. 

So she suffered on.

But as the afternoon dragged on, and Root found herself answering the same questions over and over again—and her chest coiling tighter and tighter with something bordering on guilt and downright _indignation_ every time Shaw looked away, she found herself just a _little_ desperate for some change.

So she turned her attention to Dave. 

Root had been watching him fade in and out, as the hours passed by.   

She had noticed that he had a knack for disappearing into the shadows, where he was safe from his wife’s critical eye.  He seemed perfectly content running himself ragged, performing those thankless tasks, checking the ice chests and righting the toppled ketchup bottles, seeing to the small details—the _practical management_ that kept a party of this caliber going.  He somehow managed to operate _beyond_ Kat’s scrutiny. 

Root envied him that.

And she hoped to take advantage of his—particular skill set. 

For the last half hour or so, all of the neighbors trickling by the table where she and Kat and Martha and Leslie stood at the ready, had come for _actual desserts._ Because they'd already had a full meal.  And it seemed that with their hunger sated, their desire to poke and prod into Root’s personal life had also faded. 

Yet, _each and every_ one of them seemed to have had the pleasure of indulging in one of the perfectly seasoned burgers from the station Shaw had acquisitioned; and they _all_ seemed to have come to the dessert table with the express purpose of congratulating Root on having married so well.  They complimented her pretend wife on her culinary artistry, her calm and collected technique. 

Normally, Root would have been flattered.  Would have giggled and played the humble and demure housewife.  Might have thrown in a blush and made some comment about food being Shaw’s favorite love language. 

But while she was pleased that Shaw had found such a natural and—admittedly  _tame,_ way of winning over the neighbors, Root was still left with an ache in her chest.  She felt so—cut off from it all. 

From Shaw in particular.  

There was still fifty yards between them. 

And Root was _still_ stuck behind the dessert table, though they’d moved on to spooning out ice cream, and she was _desperate_ to connect with Shaw.  

Even if it had to be through a third party.

 

Hence-- _Dave_.

 

Root snagged Dave’s sleeve just as he was passing, clearly startling the broad-shouldered but baby-faced man.  

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Dave,”  Root drawled.  She widened her eyes to appear apologetic, hoping to take advantage of his 'always-willing-to-help' attitude, “—but are you heading that way?” 

Root indicated the far side of the yard with her chin where Dave had most definitely been heading if the platter of raw hotdogs in his hands was any indication.  Root had seen him make several successful trips across the divide, taking raw meat to the grill station and returning with the finished product. 

Root had not had a chance to sample any of the meat yet herself, and she was constantly setting aside the food she was given so she could shake hands or, in some cases, _hug_ the neighbors who came by to praise Shaw’s seasoning and ask Root offhandedly how her novel was coming and if she’d enjoyed her Paris honeymoon.  But she still couldn't summon an appetite.

She just hoped that Shaw had taken some time in the midst of all the _fun_ she’d been having on the far side of the yard to get Daniella something to eat. 

“Yeah, I was going to take these over to Gary.”  Dave answered smoothly, but then immediately took a step closer to Root, as eager to lend a helping hand as Root had anticipated, “Do you need something?” 

Root smiled brightly and did her best to ignore the disapproving _tsk_ she heard behind her,

“Goodness, Martha do you think you’ve got enough in that one?  It’s practically swimming.”  Kat observed.

“Oh, well, I just wanted to finish out this carton—there really wasn’t enough left for two bowls.” Martha tried to explain.   

Root ignored the drama happening to her left and held out a bowl of vanilla ice cream,

“Do you think you could take this to Daniella?  I don’t think she’s had any yet.”

“Sure thing!”  Dave promised, already maneuvering the oblong platter of hotdogs to free up a hand for the bowl.  As Root thanked him and handed over the bowl, Dave’s eyes widened and his jaw went a little slack,

“Oh my gosh!  I almost forgot the grilled cheese!” 

Root opened her mouth to assure Dave that forgetting the grilled cheese was _not_ the end of the world, but Kat seemed to notice just then that the vanilla ice cream was just sitting there, melting in its carton, and turned to see just _why_  Root had stalled in her work.  The hostess let out another shriek when she saw her husband talking to her honored guest—Root almost felt sorry for coaxing him out of the shadows. 

“Dave!  _There_ you are!”  Kat exclaimed, as if she had been looking for him a great long while when in fact she had hardly noticed at all that he had slipped away just after her welcoming speech, “It’s time to call the children back.  Sam and I finished spooning out the ice cream and they need to take a break.” 

Kat parsed out these demands with a flash of her rather dangerous green eyes.  

“Oh, but I was just about to—” Dave started to protest, looking rather conflicted as he gestured toward the house with the bowl of ice cream and over his shoulder with the platter of raw meat, but Kat cut over him as she took Root by the shoulders and turned her sharply away.

“ _Now_ , Dave!”  Kat hissed. 

The woman’s tone changed completely as she led Root back to the end of the picnic table where Sharon and a few others were still gathered, sipping on their raspberry ices and arguing about the merits of various perennials,

“Sharon here is the president of our gardening club.  Did I already tell you that?  She took over after sweet Edith Hummel went away.  You simply _must_ hear her story about the wheedhacker, Sam, it’s hilarious…”

Root nodded complacently, and took her place dutifully beside Kat as they rejoined the circle. 

But she chanced a glance over her shoulder at the earliest opportunity. 

Dave had left the hotdogs rather precariously in the seat of an empty lawn chair, and was making his way through the crowd with both the ice cream and a plate of grilled cheese—Root still had _no idea_ where that gimmick had come from.  But it seemed very important to Daniella.  So she supposed she was glad Dave had remembered it.

Dave waved and called out a cheerful greeting to get Shaw’s attention and Root’s breath caught. 

She watched with unexplainable _trepidation_ as Dave gestured with one hand and then the other, that broad, relaxed smile never leaving his face.  She watched Daniella lift her head from Shaw’s shoulder, saw her entire face light up as she reached for the ice cream—

And she felt a stab of something quite a bit hotter than _indignation_ when Shaw finally caught her eye. 

Dave had already waved a goodbye and moved on to perform the next thankless task on his ever-growing list, leaving Daniella to examine the plate of rather gooey grilled cheese with suspicion. 

But Root was watching Shaw, finally holding eye-contact for more than a split-second.  

Root could only watch with consternation as Shaw took the bowl of ice cream and _deliberately_ turned it upside down, dumping its contents into the waste bin at her station. 

Even at this distance, Root could see the smirk on Shaw’s face. 


	33. Chapter 33

Shaw was rather enjoying the little dance she was doing with Root—who would look away first (Shaw was good at that), who would glare and who would break—it seemed the _least_ Root deserved, having to put up with a bit of chase, after _abandoning_  Shaw and the kid like that. 

But then Shaw’s concentration was completely broken by what sounded like a collective cheer and the banging open of a wooden gate—one that had been cut right into the fence separating the yards of 308 and 307 Flower Hill. 

“Oh great, here they come.”  One of the men behind Shaw muttered.  There seemed to be an answering groan from all sides.  

The words hadn’t even had a chance to settle in before a rabid looking horde of children came streaming through the breach in the fence.

“Mom!  Mom, I did a cannonball!” 

“Dad, are there any Doritos left?  I’m starving!” 

“Justin went off the diving board even though _I told him not to_!” 

“Can I go get our basketball?  Riley and I are tired of swimming.”

Shaw’s arms slowly tightened around Daniella and she watched with a set frown as the wet and glistening children of Flower Hill came screaming back into the yard—she decided there and then that the first order of business as soon as she got back to the quiet of their own little cookie-cutter Flower Hill domicile would be a _more thorough_ sweep of the perimeter, and if she did _just so happen_ to find one of those ghastly _neighborly gate contraptions_ , she would be boarding it up.  As soon as possible. 

Several of the children were still wearing their diving goggles or hefting pool noodles—which they lashed about as they careened through the various pockets of adults causing mayhem and general outrage among the adults.

Shaw’s eyes drifted back to the gate where Dave had appeared, his shirt now sporting a distinctive splash pattern. 

“Right, ahh—ice cream’s just that way, kids.  And there’s watermelon in the blue ice chest.  _Don’t run_!”  Dave called.

But even as Dave shouted out the warning, Shaw saw an accident play out. 

Because _of course_ the children didn't listen.  

Because _of course_ the promise of ice cream sent them running right around the slick edges of the pool without any regard for safety--

And _of course_ the one to fall had to be a little shrimp of a thing with too much propulsion and not enough sense. 

It was a little boy with goggles far too big for his small head and arm floaties that looked to be cutting off the circulation of his thin arms.  Shaw winced in sympathy as she watched him go down—he skidded a lot farther than she would have predicted.

The frenetic, but still cheerful atmosphere of the party shattered the moment the boy lifted his bloodied chin and let out a blood-curdling scream. 

The laughter and easy conversations yard-wide stuttered to a halt.  Everyone turned to look.  Even those parents whose children had already run by turned their heads with a lump forming in their throats, afraid their child might be the one in pain. 

Shaw had no such fears.  She still had Daniella situated safely on her hip, and she sighed as she turned back to her beer.  There wasn’t so much a demand for burgers now, but she wasn’t about to venture out from behind the grill and risk the chance of sending mixed signals—namely that she was ready for _socializing_. 

Any _normal_ person would recognize the sanctity of the grilling station—and that by standing behind it, Shaw was _in the zone_.  And was clearly _not to be disturbed_. 

It had worked surprisingly well at keeping the suburban housewives away.  But Shaw supposed she really shouldn't have been surprised to find that  _Root_ had blatantly ignored the _sacred rules of outdoor gathering etiquette_  in her hurry to get across the yard.  She’d come to stand right next to Shaw—which may or _may not_ have been the very thing Shaw had been hoping Root would do all afternoon, but she was a little disappointed that it had taken the _literal_ drawing of blood to get Root away from Kat.  

Understandably, Shaw’s voice was a little gruff when she addressed the hacker pretending to be her wife,

“What are _you_ doing over here?”

“Mommy!”  Daniella turned her head so quickly, one of her braided pigtails smacked Shaw in the face. 

“I came to see if everything was alright.”  Root answered smoothly, not looking phased at all as she held out her hands to accept an already squirming Daniella.

All around them, the other adults seemed a _tad_ slow in their responses to the child’s continued screaming.  A few half-rose from their lawn chairs.  The man on Shaw’s right even ventured out from behind his grill.  But all in all, everyone seemed to be holding their breath, _watching_ Dave and his daughter Cheryl helping the little boy to his feet.  No one seemed capable of swift action. 

Which seemed like a potentially problematic flaw for anyone entrusted with the care of small children to have, in Shaw’s opinion. 

But she didn’t mention any of this to Root.   

Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and kept one eye on the bleeding boy while continuing to glare at Root,

“It’s fine.”

 Root pouted in that infuriating way,

“Are you sure?”  Root asked in that sickly sweet tone of hers—the one that seemed completely out of place on the periphery of an accident of this caliber. 

Shaw’s eyes narrowed, but before she could ask Root what the hell she was playing at with her concerned routine when she knew _perfectly well_ that Daniella was fine—Kat arrived on the scene.  Screaming.  Hysterically. 

“ _Ohmygod_!  What happened?!  Is everything alright?!  _Ohmygod_ , Justin!  You poor angel!” 

“I’m sorry, Mom, I told them to be careful.”  The teenage girl Cheryl stammered.  She was attempting to help while also trying to _not_ get any of the boy’s blood on her pink and purple bikini.

“It’s alright, love, we’ve just had a bit of a scrape.”  Dave tried to explain.  He was half-crouched, half-loping as he tried to hurry the boy away from the edge of the pool. 

Another woman--Shaw was pretty sure it was Diane--broke from the pack of worried but otherwise useless observers to dart around Kat and dropped to her knees in front of the blubbering boy.  Immediately Justin reached out for her, wanting to be held, but Diane seemed unaware as she cupped a hand under his chin to catch up the blood.

"You're alright."  Diane said firmly, even though her hands were shaking, "You're okay, sweetheart."  

“Alright?!  He’s _bleeding out_!”  Kat cried, her green eyes as wide as the burgers Shaw had been grilling. 

Shaw lifted an eyebrow at that—the boy’s chin _was_ bleeding profusely, but that was to be expected with any injury sustained to the face.  His elbows and knees both presented with nasty skinned patches, but they were merely pink and raw.  They weren’t _bleeding_. 

Shaw’s observations were interrupted by a nudge to her shoulder. 

She turned to glare at Root, but her mouth went dry when she saw the look the taller brunette was giving her. 

Root looked _far_ too pleased with herself.

“Why don’t you go help, Sameen?”  Root suggested as if she had completely forgotten that they were trying to _lay low_.  Blend in.  Look out for _each other_ and no one else.  

“What?”  Shaw was flabbergasted. 

They had _one mission_ —one girl to protect.  There was _a reason_ Daniella wasn’t the one cut up and bleeding on the edge of the neighbor’s pool, and that was because Shaw hadn’t let her out of her sight.  She couldn’t worry about everyone else’s children.  That was too much of a headache. 

“Yay!  Sah-meen’s a doctor!”  Daniella felt it was necessary to inform all of the adults already gathering around the gate. 

“Justin doesn’t need a doctor.”  Shaw protested.  “All he needs is a band-aid.”   

“Great!  We’ve got a first-aid kit inside, I’ll show you.”  Dave called, seeming to brighten under the realization that it wouldn’t be entirely incumbent upon him to _fix_ this particular disaster.

Shaw glowered. 

She could _feel_ Root beaming at her—as if this minor injury and the small panic it entailed had been the best thing that had happened today.  Shaw was willing to admit that it might be the most _exciting_ thing, but she didn’t see it as the sun breaking through the clouds or anything like that. 

She saw it as another distraction—potentially an obstacle to her main objective.   

“Oh _thank goodness_ you were here, Sameen.”  Kat gasped, her hand still clutched over her heart as if the sight of blood had nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. 

She then turned and lifted her hands as if to hold back a concerned mob, “It’s alright, everyone!  Doctor Arundel is going to patch Justin right up!”

The adults all gasped and cheered with relief—glad that _someone else_ was dealing with it.

The teenager Cheryl edged away to go stand with the others who were clearly _not responsible_.  

The boy Justin whimpered as Diane tugged his goggles off brushed grass from his stomach, still assuring him that he was _alright_. 

The other children stood around with bowls of half-finished ice cream, wondering what all of the fuss was about. 

Shaw sighed and grudgingly stepped out from behind the grill.  She handed Gary back his spatula.

“Alright then—let’s go.”

"Thank you, Sameen.  He really is fine."  Diane explained as if suffering under the delusion that the tears shed by the boy Shaw highly suspected was her son had been sprung from a tantrum rather than acute pain.  She walked back toward her group of friends without seeming to harbor any misgivings about leaving Justin in the capable hands of Dave and a complete stranger.  

“Yay!  Sah-meen!”  Daniella clapped. 

She seemed to share her mother’s warped sense of optimism. 

Shaw sighed and turned to follow Dave who had tugged the still bleeding, and once again crying, boy up the stairs of the deck to the back door of 308. She would have stuffed her hands in her pockets but she was wearing a _stupid dress_ because Root had told her to  _wear something festive_ to express just _how happy she was to be here_.

Shaw paused at the foot of the stairs as a vengeful thought crossed her mind. 

She turned back to the yard, where the excitement seemed to have completely subsided.  The adults had returned to their conversations, though a few had peeled off to see to their rambunctious offspring and confiscate pool noodles.  The teenagers had gathered around the boombox, keeping their backs to everyone else.  The men in the shade had closed the hoods of their grills and stood rather forlornly around the empty ice chest—the one that had held their beer. 

Root was still standing close by, Daniella now latched to _her_ hip as Kat and a few other women completely surrounded her and gushed about how awful the last few minutes had been, how _harrowing_.

Shaw was careful to keep her face neutral as she coughed to get Root’s attention.  She couldn’t help but feel a thrum of pleasure when she saw that same _desperate_ flash in Root’s eyes that she’d seen several times in the hours that they'd been _trapped_ here—the one that begged Shaw to help her escape. 

Shaw had watched Root shine all evening.  She was a natural at this—at reading people and playing to their weaknesses.  She navigated this unknown territory flawlessly, hardly even tripping up when confronted with the women who’d already been fed a few lies from Shaw’s end.  She didn’t even seem mad that Shaw had decided that their honeymoon had been in Paris.  Or that she’d told Richard they’d had sex on the first date. 

Root never caught her eye to glare—it was just to make sure Shaw was still there.

Shaw thought it was a little unfair.  How good Root was at playing make-believe. 

Even if Shaw herself could see through it.  She caught the way Root flinched every time Kat laughed.  The way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

But _Root_ had been the one to decide it would be every woman for herself at this party. 

So _Root_ could live with the consequences. 

Shaw had let her flounder all evening, pleased at the thought that _finally_ the woman would have to see the importance of the _exit strategy_.  That she’d realize splitting up was _never_ the better option.  

But as much as she _loved_ watching Root swallow a bit of humility—she also _hated_ watching Kat lean into Root to laugh and snort over some hilarious story or other.  She _hated_ the curious and _hungry_ look that Kat threw Root’s way every few minutes.  She _hated_ the nasty little indentations her _far-too-long-to-be-practical_ pink nails left in Root's alabaster skin.    

So she decided _this time_ , she would throw Root a lifeline. 

Just this once.  

So she cleared her throat and the women barricading Root in all turned in surprise. 

Shaw ignored them.  She looked only at Root. 

“It’s pretty bad in there.  I could use your assistance, _Samantha_.”

Shaw inwardly groaned when Root’s eyes lit up with that overly _smug_ glint—as if Shaw had just given her _exactly_ what she wanted.

“Why of course, Sameen.  My hands are _always_ in your service.”

Shaw rolled her eyes as the women around her reacted much as she would have expected to Root’s suggestive tone—a few giggled and blushed, while two others looked pointedly away, Diane smirked knowingly, and Kat’s face turned almost completely ashen.

Shaw turned on her heel and stalked away—she could feel Root walking behind her—could feel her stupid grin warming her back.  And she could hear Daniella happily singing her made-up little song about the ‘arundel’. 

Shaw knew the kid was probably just glad to be away from Kat’s scary green eyes.  She didn't like the thought of her number having to worry about something like that.  

Root should've known better.

“Thanks for getting me out of there.”  Root’s voice ghosted low and _warm_ over Shaw’s bare shoulder. 

“Whatever.”  Shaw grumbled as she yanked the sliding door open. 

She could hear the boy sniffling from somewhere inside the house and Dave crashing around trying to reassure the poor kid that everything would be okay. 

“You seemed to be handling it fine.”

Shaw stepped inside the house and waited for Root to follow before sliding it shut just a little more forcefully than was necessary.  She could see Kat staring their way and she was tempted to wave.  Or perhaps flash a one-fingered salute. 

On Daniella's behalf of course.  

“So did you.  Gary seems to think you saved him from some kind of disaster.”  Root said offhandedly as she let Daniella slide down to the floor and stretched.

“That’s because I _did_.  He had no idea what he was doing.”  Shaw growled as she swatted at a dusty chrysanthemum, just making sure she wouldn’t have to perform an emergency tracheotomy on top of the ever-taxing band-aid application.

“Well aren’t I lucky.”  Root practically purred as she raked her eyes up and down Shaw’s figure, “My wife is just _everyone’s_ hero today.”

Shaw groaned and lifted her eyes to the ceiling, wishing for perhaps the millionth time that she had ignored Root’s rules and brought her guns. 

“Right—there you are.  I’ve set him up in the bathroom.  And I found the first aid kit!”  Dave announced, appearing in the hallway. 

Shaw rolled her shoulders and turned her head, but found that Root had already taken charge. 

“Thanks so much, Dave.  We’ll take it from here.”  Root drawled with a bright smile as she lifted the kit from Dave’s hands.  She tossed her hair over one shoulder as she started down the hallway. 

“Come on, Sameen.” 

Shaw sighed and glanced down at Daniella.  She held out her hand, but didn’t have to say anything.  Daniella had become much less--wary of Shaw recently.  She seemed more willing to follow Shaw—Shaw didn't know why.  She suspected it might have had something to do with the tearful confession the four year old had provided not half and hour ago stating that the only grilled cheese she loved in the world came from Shaw’s own hand.

But she couldn’t be sure.

“We’ll only be a minute.”  Shaw murmured as she led Daniella around Dave and took her down the hall. 

She was careful to step around the wet puddles on the floor left in the wake of the boy.  She could hear running water and Root speaking in a low, calming voice--whispering much more soothing things than 'you're alright'.  Shaw didn't know what it said about these people--that a former killer for hire was better with their children than they were.  But she didn't want to think about it. 

Namely because she was pretty sure it spoke to _something_ in Root that she hadn't noticed before more than the obvious deficiency in the Flower Hill parents.

Shaw paused at the entrance to the bathroom, watching Root for a moment as she washed the chlorine and grime away from the little boy's wounds. 

She wondered briefly if this tenderness had existed before--or simply _because_ of Daniella.

Root glanced up and Shaw looked away again, clearing her throat as she took in the limited space.  The bathroom was more of a powder room.  Smaller than Shaw’s gun closet.  And there appeared to be some sort of—naval theme.  There was a lighthouse mural on one wall and seashells in a little glass bowl next to the soap.  But the walls were pink.  

It was all very confusing.

Root was kneeling in front of the crying boy, but between her long legs and the trashcan next to the sink, Shaw wasn't sure they could all fit.

“Daniella, can you wait right here for a minute?”  Shaw asked the four year old still clinging to her hand. 

Daniella’s eyes lit up and she nodded vigorously.

Shaw nodded and stepped over Root’s legs to try to somehow squeeze herself between the sink and the toilet. 

“I can be the look-out!”  Daniella suddenly announced as the idea came to her.

Shaw turned, blinking, but Daniella had already committed--she saluted and slammed the bathroom door shut. 

Shaw sighed and turned attention to the freckled boy who couldn’t be any older than Daniella. 

“Alright, what’s the damage?”  Shaw asked as she leaned in for a closer look. 

“Critical, I’m afraid, Doctor.”  Root said with an added air of solemnity that made the little boy’s lower lip tremble. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and snatched the first aid kit from Root. 

“Don’t listen to her.  She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”  Shaw assured the child as she flipped the kit open and rummaged for a tube of Neosporin. 

“I do too—look at this!”  Root insisted, gesturing wildly toward one of the boy’s skinned knees.  “This is the most impressive abrasion I’ve ever seen—I’m pretty sure the whole thing will have to come off.” 

The boy gasped and lifted teary blue eyes up to Shaw. 

“Shut up, you’re scaring him.”  Shaw grunted.  

She glanced down and tried to find the least awkward way to squat next to Root in her stupid dress.  She kicked her heels off and settled for a sort of side-lean.

Once she was settled, Shaw nudged Root out of the way and held up the tube of Neosporin,

“Listen, you’re not gonna lose your leg.  Or your arm.  Or _anything_.  This will help the exposed skin to heal.”

“Well done, Sameen.  You found the magic potion.”  Root praised. 

Shaw glared at her. 

“It’s not magic.  It’s _medicine_.” 

“If you say so.”  Root retorted, doing her god-awful interpretation of a wink. 

Shaw wanted to punch her. 

But surprisingly, the boy laughed.  And when Shaw looked up, she realized that he’d stopped crying. 

That didn’t give Root license to smirk so brightly though. 

“Cut that out.”  Shaw grumbled as she grabbed Root’s hand and forced her fingers to flatten out.  She squirted some Neosporin onto Root’s forefinger and shoved her hand away before the irritating hacker could find a way to make yet another suggestive comment.

“Spread that over his knee and I’ll work on his chin.”  Shaw ordered.

Root’s smile didn’t falter.  She even imitated Daniella’s salute. 

“Whatever you need, Doctor.” 

Shaw rolled her eyes and shifted up to her knees to give her hamstrings some relief. 

“Now, this will probably sting a little.”  Shaw murmured as she observed the tattered skin. 

“But that just means that its working.”  Root supplied as she carefully swiped her finger over the circular patch of red skin at the boy’s knee. 

Justin shuddered at the contact, but he didn’t cry out.  He sniffled and squeezed his eyes shut.  His short hair had started drying in splotches, giving him a pathetically ruffled look.

“You’re doing great, Justin.”  Root encouraged with a smile. 

“Hold still.”  Shaw instructed as she massaged the medicine into the deeper gash at his chin.  She snapped her fingers at Root when she was finished and held out her hand.

“Bandage.” 

“Right here, Doctor.”  Root husked, handing Shaw a band aid. 

Shaw huffed, but accepted the requested item without comment.  She blew a stray strand of hair from her forehead and fixed the bandage to the boy’s chin.  Then she covered each of his skinned elbows and knees, refusing to look Root in the eye. 

“There.  You’re all set.”  Shaw announced without warmth as she tossed the band aid wrappers in Root’s direction. 

She found it amusing, watching Root try to scramble to catch the fluttering pieces of paper--she failed miserably every time. 

“Thank goodness.”  Root sighed dramatically.  “You saved his life, Sameen.” 

Shaw rolled her eyes again. 

“It was just a scratch—” 

Shaw was cut off by the little boy’s arms wrapping _quite tightly_ around her neck. He was still quite wet from hours of swimming, and the floaties still wrapped around his arms made it even more difficult for Shaw to breathe. 

“Thank you, Doctor Sameen!”  The boy declared. 

Shaw glared at Root around the colorful flotation device strapped to the boy's left arm and gasped when Root finally got the hint and tugged the child that was _not their number_ from her neck.

“Way to go, Justin.”  Root smiled down at the boy.  “Are you ready to take those off?” 

Root pointed to the floaties on the child’s arms. 

“Yeah—I don’t really want to swim anymore.”  Justin admitted, tugging half-heartedly at the air-filled safety gear.  They didn’t budge. 

Shaw sighed and reached over to let the air out while Root turned to find the boy a towel.   

Once the cumbersome life-saving flotation contraptions had deflated enough, Shaw tugged them free and tossed them away.  Root had found a towel and handed it to the boy before turning to the sink to wash the Neosporin from her hands.  Shaw struggled to her feet and then took the towel from the boy who was trying to unfold it too demurely and dropped it over his head without ceremony.  Root turned around with a huff, clearly not pleased, and wrapped it more snugly around his shoulders. 

“There you go.” 

“Thanks, Daniella’s mom.”  Justin grinned. 

Root blinked, startled, and reached out blindly to knock on the door behind her. 

“Ella—you can let us out now.”

The door flew open before Root had even finished speaking and Daniella poked her head into the small space to squint at the boy in the towel. 

“You’re all better?”  Daniella asked suspiciously. 

“Yeah.”  Justin nodded.  “My name’s Justin.” 

Daniella sniffed and then lifted her eyes to Root.

“Maman, pouvons-nous rentrer a la maison maintenant?”

“Wow.”  Justin whispered, his blue eyes wide as he gawked at Daniella. 

“One moment, Ella bird—Sameen and I will be right out.”  Root explained, watching Shaw as she packed up the first aid kit and mopped up the water on the floor with a hand towel. 

Daniella sighed and turned back to the boy only an inch or two taller than her.    

“I haven’t learned that at pre-school yet.”  Justin praised, still in awe that the girl down the street could sound _so grown up_ in more than one language.  “Are you in… _kindergarten_?”

Daniella took Justin’s hand without answering his question and tugged him out of the bathroom,

“My mommies need to talk.” Was the only explanation she gave.

Root chuckled to herself as she watched them go, but then she turned back to Shaw and her amused smile spread into a mischievous grin.

She didn’t feel quite so guilty anymore.  Not when Shaw had thrown down such a deliberate challenge—first with the ice cream and then by asking Root to come _assist_. 

She’d never known Shaw could get jealous.

And that knowledge distracted from her guilt--it was almost enough to fill up the hollow ache in her chest.

“Aren’t you going to wash your hands, Sweetie?”  Root asked teasingly.

Shaw snapped the lid of the first aid kit shut and glared at Root.

“Don’t start, _dear_.”

Shaw shouldered her way around Root and turned on the faucet, refusing to flinch even though the water came out _hot_. 

“I’m just concerned that a doctor of your expertise would allow herself to fall so lax in her sanitation habits.”  Root said lowly, keeping her eyes on Shaw’s hands cutting with precision through the water. 

“Root.”  Shaw growled lowly enough that no one else could hear.  

She knew it was risky but she _hated_ the taste of _dear_ still clinging to her tongue.  It had tasted worse than _Samantha_.  

Root was Root.  That was all.  

And Shaw was...whatever Root wanted her to be. 

“What?”  Root asked, moving impossibly closer.  “I just want you to know that I worry about you, Sameen—you and your hands.”

Shaw wanted to tell Root to cut it out with the inappropriate asides, but then she noticed the change that had come over Root’s face in her reflection.  Her smile wasn’t dark and lustful anymore.  Neither were her eyes. 

“Sameen, I—I overreacted before.  I’m sorry.  I was just—worried.”  Root spoke softly.  So softly her words were almost overpowered by the sound of the water running from the faucet. 

Shaw didn’t need to ask when exactly Root was apologizing for.  If she looked deeply enough into Root’s eyes she could see all the way back to the start of this mess, the moment things had started to turn _dangerous_ and _personal_.

Shaw sighed, the tension left her shoulders, and she switched off the faucet. 

“Root.” 

Something in her tone must have upset Root because the taller woman took a sharp breath and averted her eyes, as if preparing for a reprimand or another brush off—which shouldn’t have been so unlikely.  That’s usually how Shaw would handle a situation like this, when Root was trying to dig too deep.  She'd put up more defenses.  Change the subject.  Look away.  Try to ignore the _sweetness_ of Root already in her blood for as long as possible.       

But she didn’t this time. 

Shaw turned around and leaned back against the sink, eyeing Root carefully.  She kept her tone low and even, almost—soothing. 

“I understand.  I don’t—blame you.” 

Root’s eyebrows furrowed together and she glanced up.  She bit her lip when she saw how Shaw was looking at her, her heart twisting almost painfully. 

“But you need to trust me.”  Shaw’s voice dropped even quieter than Root’s had been.  “I made you a promise, Root—this is my mission.  I’m not—I’m not going anywhere.” 

Root’s eyes were shining, and her smile was so bright it hurt.  Shaw could see that she wanted to say something, probably something superfluous--something cheesy.

So Shaw acted first. 

Shaw rolled her eyes and reached around Root for the already soaked hand towel that she’d hung on the doorknob.  She gestured vaguely and cleared her throat,

“My hands are in your service, or however the saying goes.” 

Root’s mouth dropped open slightly and her nostrils flared, but before she could pounce, Daniella’s shriek echoed in the hallway.  Root turned her head just as her daughter came careening to a halt at the bathroom door.  She was breathing heavily.

“What is it, Ella bird?”  Root asked, trying to give her heart a moment to settle back into a safer rhythm. 

“Justin—doesn’t want to swim anymore.”  Daniella panted.  She pointed back down the hallway, “Can we watch a movie?” 

Root frowned slightly and glanced down the hallway to the living room where Dave waved slightly. 

“I said it would be alright as long as they had someone with them.”  Dave called.  Justin stood at his feet, still wrapped in that large fluffy towel.  

“Oh, well—”

“Actually, Daniella, I think we’re getting ready to head home.”  Shaw stepped in, her tone no longer soft but slightly authoritative. 

Daniella’s brown eyes widened and her lower lip protruded,

“S’il vous please?”  Daniella begged.  She reached up for Root’s hand and tugged.  “ _Please_ Mommy.” 

Shaw’s eyes narrowed.  She recognized the tactic—Daniella was going for the weaker link. 

“Daniella, that’s enough.”  Shaw started.  

She was through playing games.  Through dancing.  

She'd gone through the party without kneecapping anyone. 

She'd kept Daniella safe.

She'd even worn a dress like Root had asked. 

She'd made friends around the grill.  

She'd played the part of a _happily married doctor_ \--now she wanted to go home and fuck her fake wife like a _normal person_.   

But Root clearly wasn't interested in upholding the same aspects of the cover as Shaw.  Because she just had to fall back on _Mother of the Year_.   

“That sounds alright with me.”  Root said brightly. 

Daniella squealed with excitement, drowning out Shaw’s colorful curses, and turned to run back down the hallway.  Justin caught on to her excitement and jumped in place.

“Yay!  Beauty and the Beast!”  He shouted.

“La Belle et la Béte!”  Daniella agreed.

Root snagged Shaw’s hand and flashed a bright grin.

“Come on, Shaw—it’ll be fun!” 

Fun was _not_ the word Shaw would have used.  


End file.
